On The Move in The Rockies
by Hyaenaa
Summary: In desperation for survival from the zombie infested South Park, Gary Harrison meets up with none other than Christophe DeLorne in an attempt to survive. WARNING: much talk of death, ethics, sin, etc.
1. Chapter 1

**In order to understand the following story, you absolutely must read this first:**

**Sometime last year (2013) I joined a South Park roleplay group on Tumblr that was based on the idea of a zombie apocalypse. The characters of South Park were put in designated areas of Colorado that had varying levels of infection. I played Gary Harrison, and I had the luck of getting to play with a young man named Lance that played Christophe DeLorne. At some point he took a lengthy hiatus and our roleplay came to a standby, to which it would never continue from, because Lance would later die in a hiking accident. I think of his passing often and have decided to publish our roleplay, which I thankfully have saved onto my computer. To be perfectly clear, half of this story is written by myself, and half is written by Lance. Please enjoy with respect to him.**

* * *

**On The Move In The Rockies: Part One**

* * *

A twisted shudder of uncanny despair ripped through Gary's body as he opened up his bag to find a lack of provisions. He was running out of food, fast; even though he'd cut down his meals significantly since this whole mess started, he knew that his supply could not last forever… And he was less than gradually coming to meet the time at which he'd run out of food.  
It was time to move again.  
Gary hated moving, for the sole reason being that he had no idea what was out there waiting for him. Lurking throughout the Rockies were the results of Satan's work, and he wanted no part in it. But he knew that in order to gain more supplies (and potentially relocate both his family as well as his friends), moving was a necessity. He'd managed to find one cabin, and he was sure that there was more than one out there… Hopefully that hadn't already been sucked dry of provisions. Gary's teeth closed down on his lip as yet another shiver tore through him, causing his entire body to momentarily convulse.  
He eyed his communication radio. On occasion static would erratically burble from it's speakers, always taking him off guard and giving him false hope. However, rarely was it ever that he actually heard someone on the other line. When he did, he would try his best to come to their assistance, but most often he was too late. He sighed and placed it into his bag, not far from ear range in case it just so happened to alert him.  
"Whosoever shall put their trust in God shall be supported in their trials, and their troubles, and their afflictions, and shall be lifted up at the last day." Gary muttered as he made sure he had everything he needed, before sighing and opening the door and entering the forest.

* * *

Come high noon, he had taken up his usual perch - well, usual. Developing any semblance of consistency in this hell hole of a Chiller Movie Marathon had become rather difficult. We will say that today's 'usual' was the top of an old Texaco building - out in the open and on the corner of two very large intersecting roads. He was very aware of the danger below, the abundance of walkers all within ear shot. He was off ground level, he was out of sight. This would suffice.

Toying with the radio who had [next to the pad and pencil in his bag] become a rather close companion - though let's be honest, his true love would always lie with a good stiff cigarette - Christophe paced idly, yet impatiently - mixing contradictions in with the dust and black tiled roof while he scraped heavy boots along maps of scuffs he'd drawn out after hours of pacing. This ancient device had required batteries a while back, and since acquiring those little bundles of electricity, he hadn't tested the waters - well, wave lengths.

Crucial Consistency, there she was again.

And yet, out of his grasp.

The volume, of course, set on low, he began flicking through the channels. Thankful for the sound of static, a white noise to drown out more white noise. What a convenience! There were murmurs, sighs, colorful words in french as he flipped - 2, 10, 8, 7 - nothing.

Not a single gurgle, gasp or shriek - that is until he settled on station 4, ah 4, another good friend. There was a faint pop, followed by a soft 'eee' whir of electricity. The sound of two lines connecting. Stable communication, for the first time in what he could have sworn to be years had he not been keeping track.

Stable communication - and the first words out of his mouth were a very [dangerously] loud: "Some day! Girl, I don't know when, we will get to that place we've always wanted to go. And we shall walk into the sun -"

Jimmie Springsteen, honestly - he could have thought for a better opening serande but could not be bothered with the time.

This of course, quickly followed by: "Unless you're fucking dead and the radio is laying on the ground somewhere - I'm sorry to say that I am not into necrophilia - so, what do you say? How about we let me know. Do you breath, or do you bite."

* * *

Gary excelled at being quiet. Experience with team sports, courtesy of his family's caring and tight-knit endeavors, aided him in learning how to be stealthy. Fear, of course, deterred from this, causing Gary to breathe roughly and stumble here and there; each time a mistake was made, his eyes squeezed shut and his shoulders shook, before he continued on, mouthing comforting versus from The Book of Mormon to himself. He trekked on and on, marking the trees with his pocket knife as he went so as not to get lost, and desperately hoped that he'd be nearing some form of shelter soon. Had it not been for the fact that the town of South Park was a Hell hole, Gary would've returned there for supplies. He did, however, consider himself lucky that he'd gotten out when he had, because otherwise he may not have made it. Especially considering his policy on murder. Even if it was murdering the damned.  
Gary rather visibly jumped, head whipping around in shock at the sudden onslaught of noise. Momentarily disoriented, he panicked and backed up into a tree, the paranoia etched into his system from the entire experience that covered the last several of months of his life surfacing. It didn't take him long to recognize the source of the voice, however, and Gary fumbled to retrieve the radio. Responding as fast as possible was key, but he feared that he would alert any nearby zombies by being too loud, and he'd ventured quite a distance from the cabin to return to it's sanctuary.  
Clearing his throat, he took a chance, relying on God to protect him. "I'm not dead, and it's good to hear that I'm not the only one. My name is Gary Harrison. What's yours? And what's your location?" He paused to dampen his dry lips, eyes darting back and forth in agonizing worry. "…Are you alone?"  
Gary's bottom lip was sucked into his mouth as his teeth chewed the soft skin there, and began to frantically mouth words of God to himself.  
_And he shall go forth, suffering pains and afflictions and temptations of every kind; and this that the word might be fulfilled which saith he will take upon him the pains and the sicknesses of his people._  
There was a soft crunch in the distance. Rats! He'd been found. With haste, Gary swung his hand up to grab a branch and hauled himself up, making his way towards the top of the tree as something distinctly cursed trudged in his direction.  
_And he will take upon him death, that he may loose the bands of death which bind his people; and he will take upon him their infirmities, that his bowels may be filled with mercy, according to the flesh, that he may know according to the flesh how to succor his people according to their infirmities._  
Though ideal, a speedy answer was not necessarily required. That is to say, Christophe was in no way over booked - this was the first promising station in quite some time now, and though he did tap the heel of his boot against the loose roof, he could wait.

* * *

In the time it had taken to receive a response, he himself had moved to asses the current situation, rather the situation below. Quite a few of them out. Chewing at the chapped flesh peeling from his lips while wary hazel flashed over every inch of surface street he could reel into his vision. Briefly, he did wonder just how these things hadn't decomposed into mush considering the weather. They should be bloated, crippled, crumbling. Something -

"Did you realise that the elements do not effect them as quickly?" He asked, sounding genuinely curious if not a bit dismissive as he pushed the introduction aside while he thought a moment, deeming it a much better idea to pull back towards the middle of the roof where the only thing reminding him of what stalk beneath him their heavy grunts and growling.

"Not counting the swarm of ants scowering the streets- I am in the city, just near the outskirts of Denver. Have you seen the free way?" What a silly question to ask - it was rare anyone else come this far out, if they'd lived in South Park that is. "Like a fucking hive mind." Thinking, he did not necessarily know a Gary Harrison, nor where he was from - he did know however, that the formalities would not be returned and as if the boy could see him, Christophe shook his head, never taking his eyes off the road below.

"I do not do names - Are you reciting the fucking good book?"

* * *

Gary's hair was dry with sweat and blood, and his choppy bangs covered the dirty blonde eyebrows as they creased in confusion. Had he missed a chunk of their conversation whilst climbing to safety? He shook his head, mind not quite following and resulting in an acute dizziness that perturbed him.  
"Yes." He murmured back as he watched the damned one stumble about in confusion below him, hauling himself up a branch or so higher as a precaution. "I think that it's because whatever is wrong with them isn't from a place where weather does anything…" He mulled, knowing that in Hell, although the fire burned you, it didn't destroy you.  
Gary rubbed his forehead, smearing a chunk of dirt across his skin as he did so, and murmured another verse. The poor soul eventually wandered away, and Gary exhaled sharply, thanking his God.  
When it was clear, he spoke up once more. "No- no, I haven't been in the city for awhile. I'm in the Rockies… Wow! You're certainly a risk taker. I didn't really think anyone was still there." Gary's lips pursed. So this other survivor was a fighter; that was good, if not a little unnerving. Gary was good at treating wounds and escaping when needed. Not fighting. He sat up abruptly to get a better look into the distance, seeing nothing but a sea of trees and mountains surrounding him. With a shaky sigh, he reseated himself, wondering if it was all right to return to the forest floor.  
At the mention of his 'reciting', Gary twisted his sleeve in surprise. Oh… That had been verbal. He wasn't used to company at this point and felt unrestricted in terms of voicing his thoughts, and often it slipped out without him realizing. He almost felt like chastising this other boy for referring to it with a swear word, but refrained, knowing it was better to not step on any toes. Figuratively, that was.  
"Sure is! That's the Book of Mormon. Are you… Familiar with it?"

* * *

Not that he didn't expect the other to have business on his own end, but the small bouts of silence were certainly an annoying inconvenience - even if he hadn't fully anticipated anyone returning call. He should be thankful, not annoyed. If anything, the poor soul tethered to the talkie should be a little inconvenienced by half conversations and off handed comments.

"Oh you know - I figured perhaps to get a little shopping in - maybe do some sight seeing - the works."

Shopping spree: Ammo, weaponry, rations - Not much, sadly. It would take extensive scouting. Not something he was particularly up to at the moment.

Shocking to say.

It was his turn to let the silence linger, shifting his weight so that the heavy boots would not grind the black top of the building and send him tumbling into the street. Perhaps he should search flatter purchase - This poor kid was traversing mountainous region all on his lonesome [no better than where he himself had managed to wander] though the city wasn't approached by accident.

However he should think quickly on retreating back to his own area - Christophe especially knew just what an idiot move it was moseying about down town. The thought was less appealing knowing that not only the dead scattered the mountain side.

Coming to a quick upright, he began making his way cautiously around the top, relocating the maintenance latter that had been a lovely help when first attempting to scale a freaking Texaco - what an awful building, not cooperative at all mind you. And he hung there, one hand on the support rail, and one boot on the first step. Snorting.

"An extended version of Grimms Fairy tales - " With absolute disregard for whatever faith his 'company' might have, Christophe mocked the other openly. Refusing to censor neither himself nor his blatant disdain for the man upstairs, or those who so blindly hoped. As if hope were to get anyone anywhere.

"Listen Cinderetard," He chimed, making his way down one handed. "I am heading out, the big city? She is not for me - perhaps I will run into you, we can have a camp out!" What had started out sarcastic only got even more so, feigned enthusiasm leaking from the last bit of his sentence and meant to be entirely facetious.

* * *

Shopping. Sight seeing. This guy had an odd sense of humor, and Gary found himself responding with a light chuckle, amused if not entertained by the jocular statements radiating from his speaker. Someone who could joke in the midst of this situation was probably good, Gary decided; anyone with positive energy drew him in.  
He rested his head on the thick trunk of the tree, unsure as to whether he should return to the ground yet or not. Gary pulled out his map, which had been slightly singed and torn; his eyes scanned over it, meticulously taking in every detail as he'd so done countless times in the past. It was next to impossible to tell where he was, especially considering the state of the map itself. His primary hope was either finding another cabin, which was unlikely at best, or finding some sort of water source that he could follow. Both involved him leaving the tree. And that was the last thing he wanted to do at the moment.  
The silence ended abruptly, and it took Gary off guard as his faith was more than blatantly insulted. His lips tightened, but his only response was to release a breath of air and dig his nails deeper into the branch. It wasn't his place to be offended. This man had his… Differences, and he had his reasons for being distasteful of Mormonism. Gary understood that. Briefly, an image of Stan Marsh flitted into his mind, recalling when their friendship had come to a screeching halt because of how Stan disliked him so for his religion.  
_It's okay. There are just people like that out there._  
"I know," he mumbled next to inaudibly in response to his own thoughts, before he coughed and straightened his back. "Oh, all right then! That sounds fine with me." He laughed, chipper tone back full force. "I haven't had a camp out in so long! My family used to have them to celebrate whenever we donated to charity." Gary thumped his foot down over the branch, testing it's sturdiness. His eyes fluttered. "By chance… You haven't seen many other survivors, have you? There are some people I'm looking for…" His voice trailed off, hope muffled by his decidedly expectant voice.  
His fingers pulled at each other in an ardent manner whilst thoughts of seeing his family flashed through his mind, Stan Marsh pushed to the background of these reunion-esque thoughts while yet another shudder tore though him. He thumbed at his book restlessly and bit his lip so as not to breathe too loudly.  
_Just one survivor. On his own. If he's seen anyone, they're not with him. He doesn't know where they are. They might not be alive. Please…_

* * *

Having already returned to ground level, much unlike the voice he was slowly becoming acquainted with - Christophe scaled the back ally, cautiously. Easing the lid of the dumpster he'd dumped his pack in for safe keeping open to fish it out - becoming frustrated doing so with one hand and eventually clipping the radio to his belt. Gary Harrison could wait in silence, surely he had become accustomed to it.

After fussing with the straps and finally securing it to his person, he once again walked the length of the ally, never looking in one direction for longer than a few moments as he slid along the wall to the entrance way that spilled out into the streets. He himself wary of just how quiet it was. What had happened to the geeks that had earlier sprawled themselves along the road way.

Ominous - as this meant one of two things; Food had been found - someone was SOL, or they were hoarding - meaning he would be that someone who had earned the label of SOL.

Something, as you can well imagine, that Christophe would enjoy avoiding.

Minutes passed and he reached to click the side button on the black block hanging from his belt - stifling a chastising chuckle. This kid seemed genuinely eager about a sarcastic pass, relieved by a ' positively energetic attitude' that did not exist.

"No - Not lately." He hushed, wondering if his voice would carry through the speaker while he peered out into the open road - gathering the will to dart out and barrel behind a car despite noticing nothing within his immediate line of sight.

Once there, he crouched, edging around its length towards the intersection - he needed to determine what road led where.

"Playing where's waldo, huh kid?" He spoke again, voice heavy with ridicule. "You are a hopeful soul." Though it did not come as a compliment.

* * *

Silence reigned, save for the few bubbles of static and the wind that whispered into Gary's ears as it passed him. Birds had grown eerily quiet since this whole issue had begun to transpire, and Gary wondered if they'd departed entirely. His mind was unable to stay in one place for long, however, as he waited excitedly for a response.  
At least a minute passed. His new friend must have been preoccupied, but this idea of reassurance did nothing to ease Gary's restless mind, and eventually he sighed. It was time to venture back down to the forest floor. Might as well travel while there was a minimal amount of noise.  
His eyes flashed back and forth as he roamed in the same direction he'd been going before communication was acquired, and he returned to his pattern of marking every third tree he passed. A long due shudder danced over his skin as he reminded himself that the other boy still had yet to reply, and it was followed by another. The perturbing feelings continued to wash over his body until he hissed out a prayer in an attempt to halt them. As he predicted, it worked.  
"Praise God," he murmured, voice far from the speaker so as not to be heard by the undoubtedly Atheistic man on the other end.  
What he would give to hear his parents' voices say those words again.  
A particularly deep carving into the trunk beside him was enough to shake the thought away, as he jiggled his knife to retract it and carried on. He still couldn't hear the sound of any sort of moving water, but he considered it safe to assume that if he kept on trekking he would eventually hit something.  
The distorted French accent startled Gary, having been so focused on listening to any hint of a stream or river that he'd almost forgotten he was in the midst of a conversation.  
"I'm more of an eye-spy fan, to be honest." He forced a breathy chuckle into the speaker that came out more disappointed than he'd intended. "If I can get through this, I'm sure plenty of others could've too… Especially my brother. He was smart, and careful… Stan, too." He trailed off, at this point more attempting to convince himself than the voice on the other side of the radio.  
With a raspy clearing of his throat, it occurred to Gary that he was once again thinking out loud and he kicked a rock. "You're not looking for anyone?"

* * *

Atheistic? Hardly, of course in dire honesty it would make the load of just how or why this entire ordeal had erupted less taxing. Christophe believed in a god - the same Christian god as his mother, as Gary. One being, watching as this nightmare swept through the word as if he'd clicked the wrong square on Mindsweeper.

The God Christophe believed in was malevolent - or idle. Uncaring, either way.

And it was he who deserved blame according to the grungy brunette.

Respectively, both boys had taken time to quickly traverse their respective terrain. Christophe darting from car to car, worried as they became more dense upon nearing the two main roads leading in to the city. An utter cliche, but a dangerous one. If he wasn't in a hurry racing the descending Sun he might ricochet between the vehicles to scavenge for supplies.

Not that the dark meant anything significant to the boy - it was all the same; Dangerous. Though the night was admittedly more densely populated.

The radio gargled, startling him as he'd been running through scenarios, possibilities. There was a soft 'Fucking Christ-' as he took the button up again.

Eye-spy huh? Humorous considering they had been playing it quite a bit lately. Tack on 'Walker' to the end and you've got yourself a game.

"Others - yes, but perhaps it is in you to be realistic?" He asked, quiet. Nervous.

The name Stan was familiar, not closely familiar - more of a vague burn in the back of his head. A mundane, common name. But it belonged to a face he could not place.

As for 'others' he had bumped into several survivors, faces from town, the city, and other areas alike. No one he'd known personally, no one he'd cared to keep around, they were strangers and while he'd helped out a bit here or there - those he encountered usually woke up with significantly less supplies than they'd first had upon meeting.

Even fewer hadn't woken up at all.

After being posed the question of if he was seeking anyone out, Christophe fell silent, telling himself he was taking the time to budge through the thicket of metal until he was comfortable with lugging himself ontop of one of the stationary vehicles to get a view ahead. Nothing but a sea of nothing. Cars. And nothing.

Assessing the situation didn't take long, and he jumped back to the black top, boots scuffing the cement as he rolled into a light jog towards the guard rail, ducking under, and coming out on the grassy side. Moving would be easier without having to wade through death. And metal.

A childish chuckle.

"Death Metal."

He muttered, before remembering he had indeed been confronted. "In particular, no - but hey! I found someone, did I not." There was someone, he was gone. Christophe saw no point in going over the details of separation from Gregory. Accidental or otherwise.

"How far in are you. In the mountains - how deep?"

* * *

Breathe. Step. Breathe. Step. Gary's mind was reduced to focusing on merely moving forward as he tried to shut out any distractions. This allowed him to listen keenly for any sign of water. Emptying his mind was something Gary had struggled to do as of late; extroverted as he was, solitude was close to unbearable and with all the stress that hung just above his head, there was this reoccurring dull ache that pressured his brain.  
He breathed in slowly when an accented voice rang through his ears, and he hoped that if there were any of the damned around, they'd not be drawn towards him.  
"Yeah, I guess… It's always great to have company." He mused, before glancing around to examine his surroundings and gathering an answer to the question at hand. "…I'm not sure, anymore." Feeling his response was inadequate, he squinted into the distance, hoping to find anything that might shed light on his whereabouts. He'd traveled quite awhile before he'd reached the last cabin that he'd stayed in, and he most certainly hadn't stayed there very long.  
"…I'd say about a fourth in, being closer to the city." He paused, before adding, "That is. Not including the mountains continuing out of the state." He almost laughed at the idea of being misinterpreted so heavily, although he was more than certain that this man had enough intelligence to understand what he'd meant the first time around.  
The question itself insinuated that this person intended to meet him, and that in itself caused Gary's skin to crawl as a familiar jitter overwhelmed his senses. He squeezed his eyes closed and jammed his knife into the wood nearest to him, willing himself to be calm. It had been ages since his last human contact and he wasn't holding up well. Having been nurtured in such a closely knit family throughout the entirety of his life, being so alone for extensive periods of time was disorienting and mortifying.  
But there were more important things to concern himself over, he decided, and spoke up again. "…I hate to ask this, but do you happen to have any food with you? I only have a little left." He inquired with a soft cringe adorning his face. He was used to giving, not taking. It made him feel odd and uncomfortable.  
His skin crawled. At least this guy was relatively nice. Maybe not near as nice as what he'd hoped for, but certainly better company than the walkers.  
Despite having gathered some semblance of an idea concerning how far in this kid might be, there was still very little to grasp at. Land marks were far and few unless near the city or suburbs, this Gary could be hundreds of miles in any given direction. Only now would he ever admit to 'One direction' sounding anything like a good title.


	2. Chapter 2

**On The Move in The Rockies: Part Two**

* * *

He was right to be cautious about being misinterpreted, though it still wore on Christophe's nerves that he had to be told twice. It was almost an insult to his ability to deduce - even if there was, again, not much to go on. Hip pressed to the railing he continued moving, ducking down every now and again if only for hearing faint noises that could be anything from a rabbit skittering away to the undead stumbling forward. He almost wanted to duck into the wreckage of metal - it seemed a good place to hide, and if there was an abundance of walkers to come through he may be able to seek refuge in the cab if he were to remain out of sight. But stumbling through blindly could also get him caught.

"Head back in whichever direction you think will lead you closer to the outskirts of the forest - I'm not playing tag all through out the Rockies." Proving the stranger correct, Christophe had planned on meeting up. Taking in just who this kid was, what kind of threat he may or may not be - if he would be a valuable asset or not.

Contrary to the voice leaking from his speaker, Christophe was used to taking, or in some lesser cases, bartering for what was essential. He wasn't fond of sharing, that much he knew. Unafraid to admit to his selfishness - being a one man army meant more rations for himself, and less bodies to worry about. People. How inconvenient they could be.

"Ready-eat-meals and a bit of junk food, but not much. I did not get a chance to scout."

One would be surprised how many REMS might fit in a pack, however. They were intended to keep as little space as possible after all. Even so. A series of events he kicked himself over continuously, had lead to a significant depletion of rations.

Remarkably, the wooded area was still brimming with a few small creatures and the ever elusive deer. "Our camp out may turn into a hunting trip - but do not mistake me for some charitable Bishop Myriel character."

Freebies weren't an option anymore. "If you have something for me, I might have something for you.

As he spoke his voice got progressively softer, the sun got progressively lower.

"I do not think it is a good idea to continue this back and forth - the feed back is loud, and I don't plan on becoming a human happy meal over a meet and greet."

Silence would be far more favorable. Though contact was fickle, and he wondered briefly the chances of actually getting into contact with this boy again.

* * *

Gary cringed. Right. Turning back made sense, albeit it meaning that he'd essentially wasted a great deal of time and effort. He sighed, but looked to the brighter side of things as he so often did; at least this meant he'd have a companion. Maybe.  
Turning to the sky, he noted that the sky was fading into twilight hues, and he picked up the pace. Hazel irises darted side to side to make sure he was out of reach from anything that could cause him danger, as he'd been doing throughout the journey. His teeth crawled over his lip to suck on it in discomfort, knowing that he'd have to walk as far as he possibly could. In the dark. Mouth far from the speaker, he quietly muttered to himself, "May the light of your way guide me, father."  
A small voice in the back of his mind whispered that he should've never left the cabin, and Gary leaned towards agreement, but decided better than to dwell on what he should have done.  
"That sounds great; I'm not picky." He cheered, voice pleased but soft to avoid attention. "…I have medical supplies, toothpaste, a lighter, some maps…" He paused. Was his pocket knife expendable? It was something his father had given him, but… It wasn't as though he used it to do much more than mark trees. He abhorred the idea of becoming violent, and although it held sentimental value, one couldn't be finicky in a time of need. "…I have a pocket knife, too."  
He wasn't fond of the idea of being alone. After finally having gotten to speak to someone for the first time in a very long time, he wanted to continue their conversation, even though it was almost exclusively business. Even so, Gary concurred; silence was crucial in not getting spotted, and he'd already taken his chances by continuing the conversation as long as he had.  
He nodded, more to himself, seeing as he was not visible to the other man. "Well, be safe! Oh, and try to get some rest. It's never healthy to travel without a good night's sleep," he mentioned, friendly smile evident in his voice. "When should I contact you?"  
Anxiously, he waited for a response, fingers skimming each tree he passed and touching the scar he'd left behind, some marks deeper than others. Each cut held an emotion, and his case of shudders overwhelmed him again as he realized how truly nervous he'd been throughout this entire endeavor. Perhaps this other boy had lightened his spirit, though, even if in an unconventional manner.

* * *

The sound of medical supplies was certainly a pleasant one. Resourceful as he was, one could only get so far for so long on tank top bandages and vodka as a disinfectant. Though that last one did wonders - Whisky being more preferable but this is neither issue nor point.

Toothpaste? Was this kid expecting an interview?

At the mention of a pocket knife, he scoffed. While he recognized it as handy, it was hardly useful. "Yes, and I have a hand gun." He muttered beside himself, taken back by the well wishes and just a bit confused. Be safe. When had anyone in their right mind last wished an opposing party to be careful - should that not be a given. Pleasantries aside, he came to a momentary halt. Planted in place while he mentally told the boy off.

We'll keep the unpleasant demeanor back pocket for now.

"As soon as the sun begins to rise I will be back on channel four." What a tricky situation. It wasn't as if either could wait around if their, ahem, business partner, failed to check in. "You will have until high noon to contact me, after which I will not regard this as a meet up, rather a scavenge."

Unpleasant, but truthful. Chastising himself for the delay, he eyed the light line spanning the horizon, entirely unaware of having helped the boy on the other end in any way. Morale wasn't exactly his priority.

Still, terminating the only conversation he'd had in nearly weeks wasn't the most pleasant of thoughts, and he gave a gruff sigh.

"High noon, or not at all."

And the line went dead.

_Note:_

_Caught a hopeful on the radio wave - Channel 4._

_Mormon, how cute is that?_

_It was niice to hear a voice t hat hadn't been distorted by rot. Cognitive conversation is getting harder to come by_

_I wonder how long it will take this kid to realize this is all just one terrible session of SIMS left to self destruct by an uncaring gamer? He didn't seem to mind. In fact, he seemed chipper._

_Way to hold fast, Waldo._

_But, are you worth my time?_

* * *

The radio switched off, he took off running. Without a distraction, he could get farther faster.  
He heard something about a handgun, but it was muffled, and therefore impossible to decipher. Gary frowned. While he still was incapable of condoning murder, even in such a situation as this, it was slightly uplifting to know that this man wasn't afraid to do the things Gary couldn't. While not a decidedly admirable quality, it was one that Gary was relieved that the other boy had.  
Humming as a positive, he thumbed the leather binding of his book and contemplated this. More likely than not, he would end up not following his own advice and probably would only spare himself two or less hours of sleep, and at that, not at once, which meant meeting the criteria in terms of time wouldn't be an issue. "High noon it is then! Be careful-"  
Gary blinked as he realized he'd been disconnected mid-word, eyes scouring the communication device to make certain that it was not malfunctioning. Perhaps it had an issue on the other's end?  
"Oh gosh," he whispered. "I sure hope he's okay."  
Attempting to push the well being of anyone that wasn't himself out of his mind - not an easy task for someone who was constantly striving to be selfless - he continued forward. So far there were few interruptions, but as the world around him grew darker in a literal sense, he knew that it would only become harder for him to spot oncoming danger.  
As time gradually passed, it occurred to Gary that he wouldn't be able to make it back to the cabin in time, so he settled for crawling into a tree and spending the rest of the evening there. Uncomfortable? Yes. Dangerous? Even more so. But it was much safer than spending it on the ground, or God forbid, a cave. He drifted in and out of sleep with each and every passing sound, before eventually, the sun blearily began to rise in the distance. He smiled tiredly and smeared sweat across his face, cracking his back as he turned on the radio; the other man had said that he could contact him before noon, and being as unreluctant as he was, Gary wanted to be back into conversation as soon as possible.  
With a loud click, Gary breathed softly as he directed himself to channel 4. "…Hey buddy, you there? How'd you sleep last night?"  
A pause between words, Gary licked his lips and allowed himself to drink from one of his few remaining waters. "…Boy, I sure hope you're okay over there."

* * *

Another expendable commodity; Sleep. While he was aware of the human body and its function, Christophe was a well practiced insomniac. Though he got tired, terribly so, he was versed in pushing himself to the very edge of exhaustion if absolutely necessary. He'd slept enough the day before, a nap wouldn't be out of the question later in the day, but for now he focused on bounding through the higher brush.

Grass, trees, weeds and insects becoming thicker the farther out he moved. Though he was on edge. Having encountered a small pack of geeks only several hours after terminating the line with Gary, and a few sparse out after that. It was to be expected. Christophe should count himself thankful for the reliance on weapons, the instinct to kill. The gun in his bag however was out of the question. Noise would draw too much attention, and after the cluster of Six or Seven, of course he would be palming a blade - but seeking out anything else wasn't necessary so long as he could out run them.

One or two were always much easier to handle.

The radio had been on, low in volume, but live. When Gary breathed new life into its circuitry, as embarrassing as it was, he lepped, arm out stretched and stiff as if expecting to be put on offense before realizing that it was the same brat from hours before.

Gradually, he eased out of the stance he'd taken up, still shuffling side ways through the outer rim of trees while he fingered the feedback.

"You're up early sunshine."

"I am fucking fantastic." He snapped in answer to both inquiries.

He was certainly in a mood. One that was forgivable considering his current state.

"There was this wild party a few hours ago that lasted well into the night, there were only seven or eight of us but, boy let me tell you." He quipped, ducking below a few branches.

"What about you dear how the fuck did you sleep."

* * *

Gary's face reddened. Swearing was a more than common occurrence at his school, so it wasn't as though he'd never heard it before, but he'd long since stopped associating with people who swore so profusely. That, and he'd not conversed for a great deal of time before he'd began to speak with this boy, so hearing a cluster of curses was more than surprising. Pale lips pursed in shame at having even heard such profanities, but he let it go.  
With a clearing of the throat, he mustered the voice to respond. "Sure am, and that's good to hear!" Gary's feet hit the ground, resulting in a small shock of pain that shot through his ankles, face contorting while a grunt died in his throat at the hindrance. Perhaps he should have slept more; maybe then he would have been able to think clearer and not make hasty decisions that resulted in him nursing his legs. "Oh, I slept just fine. Better than usual, really!" He smiled; it was mostly the truth.  
Even if he hadn't slept well, that didn't mean it wasn't comparable to how he'd slept beforehand; knowing that there was something waiting for him the next day - something good - did wonders to allow him at least an extra hour of rest.  
"Party? You mean, you met other survivors?" He wondered in deep confusion as he began to wade his way through the forest once more.  
If he'd met other survivors, why hadn't he stayed with them, as opposed to coming all this way to meet Gary? Unless he'd been referring to Satan's cursed. This coming to mind, Gary exhaled softly, and without waiting for an answer, he tried to withdraw any impressions of stupidity he'd left. "…Oh. Never mind, hahaha." It was a dry laugh, and Gary struggled to imagine the other man fending for himself just hours ago.  
What if it hadn't ended well, and Gary had lost contact with him?  
_No_, a voice whispered into his mind. _Stop worrying; that's not what happened. He's fine. And you'll be fine, too._  
A sigh erupted from his throat and he eyed the marked trees, wondering if his friend was doing the same thing to make sure he didn't get lost… Or maybe he took more risks than Gary did. That, in itself, should've been evident from what had clearly transpired the night before. Vaguely, he wondered what this other man looked like, lips twitching into a warm smile; perhaps in person he'd be much friendlier. Not that he wasn't… _Good_ company now, as Gary so tried to convince himself, but it was clear that this guy needed some cheering up.  
And cheering others up was one of his favorite activities.

* * *

Even if he hadn't slept well, at least he'd slept at all. A luxury not many could find time for now a-days, Christophe nearly envied him. Or at least he might have if the cheerful tone hadn't pierced through his own sour mood. Oh how glad he was to know that this little snot had slept comfortably.

Marking his path would be smart if not so time consuming, he'd been in and out of the area before without much aid, he'd do it again. Weaving in and out of the trees, he made sure to steer clear of anything brighter than a dull pink littering the ground. This included, but was not limited to; a torn open torso, scattered entrails, and what he thought might be a foot.

Delicious.

Had it of been survivors as Gary first assumed, there was nothing keeping Christophe tethered to a pack of strangers if not their supplies, something he may not have had time or resources to snag at the time. Exhausted and up against living, breathing, thinking people, he may not have fared so well.

"Yes, we had a lovely get together pool side. There were coolers and finger sandwiches." He continued in a snippy tone, cussing in colorful French when a branch snagged his pack, whipping across his cheek when the tension was released by a fussy tug.

What a childish mistake.

Having been impatient this entire time, he hissed, slapping at the red mark across his face.

"Where in the name of Titty-sucking-Christ are you! Fucking help me out here!" Voice raised higher than he would have liked, he had to work to calm himself down. Knowing that an outburst in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by crawlers? Not the best idea.

"Are you the one leaving these lovely fucking carvings because the tradition is to etch your initials not the same repetitive line!"

Clearly the attempts to quiet down were not working.

* * *

Gary laughed, believing all was well. "I hope you saved some leftovers for me, then." If his friend could joke, so could he. Maybe.  
…Maybe not.  
His eyebrows creased at the sudden cacophony of noise from the speaker. Even as Gary sometimes drowned in his own delusional optimism, it was pretty clear that he was more than pissed. Gary restrained himself from telling the man to calm down, knowing that might only feed the flame.  
"Yes, that would be me! At least you're on the right trail. There should be a cabin somewhere between us, which is where I was staying not too long ago…" He smiled tiredly. "I think 'GH' might have taken too long to keep writing. I wasn't really planning on being found… It was just to make sure I didn't go in circles." He explained slowly, craning his neck to see if the cabin was anywhere close. The foliage was, however, much too thick for him to tell.  
"I only left there yesterday, so I should be able to get there soon, and I'm sure you will too. Don't worry." He informed carefully, massaging a stiff shoulder as he power-walked through the forest.  
A frown adorned his face as he noted a small raccoon that had been torn open, insides lying here and there, and he mumbled a small prayer for it and it's family as he passed. That wasn't a good sign; it meant that he was probably getting closer to some of the damned. Stress bit at his mind, imagining the irony of him dying right before he rendezvoused with his moody buddy.  
"…Did you get hurt at all last night?" He questioned with genuine concern, knowing that if need be he could easily be of assistance.

* * *

"I'm not worried, I am agitated -" He bit into the speaker, not at all above the sarcastic laugh he'd forced in response to Gary's josh about left overs. He himself hadn't taken any food from his pack in nearly a day and a half now, so their little get together might turn into a post-apocalyptic-picnic. The denser the roughage, the closer the cluster of marks began to get to each other.

For someone who did not want to go around in circles, he was certainly leaving one hell of a confusing path. "Unless 'GH' means Greetings from Hell." He muttered, waving off the explanation while he shuffled around the damp forest floor, wondering if the wet patches were from melted snow or something else entirely. Either way - at least no one in this cabin would fuss at him for tracking mud.

So help Gary if he turned out to be that one hygienic asshole - the kid did have toothpaste as he recalled.

"In what direction would you say this miraculous get away is located?" Sturdy enough, it may prove a nice place to stop and perhaps shell out the few hours of sleep he so desperately needed. Not that he would admit to the heavy bags beneath his eyes being anymore prominent than usual.

A loud scoff, well, as loud as he felt comfortable with after his outburst - "Don't worry sunshine, I'm fucking fantastic. A small scuttle of geeks is not too hard too hard to avoid." He could thank [anyone but God] hell it hadn't been a hoard.

"I am more surprised that you are still on the other end of this bullshit game of Hide and Seek."

Cat and mouse would have also been an acceptable comparison. Not that he was particularly amused by his own musings as he tripped through the forest, bounding over fallen branches, upturned stumps and rocks.

"Left 4 Dead was far more amusing as a video game than an RLRPG."

* * *

"I'm sorry; to be honest, I don't really know," he admit, unable to give a proper response without knowing where exactly his friend was. "…But so long as you follow the trail I left, you'll be fine." Dry tongue darting out to lick at chapped lips, his eyes squinted in deep concentration. "…Um. There should be a decapitated deer somewhere around there… When you see him, you'll be close."  
Gary's ears were tinged with pink. Why this man found it necessary to swear so often he wasn't sure, but he considered himself lucky that he'd known many potty-mouths beforehand and therefore had grown slightly immune to their vocabulary rubbing off on him. Bad words made for bad feelings, as his mother always said.  
"You like video games?" He idly inquired, ignoring the negative attitude and noting that he was nearing the cabin. It wasn't visible yet, due to the dense trees, but he recalled having passed a discarded shotgun on his way there, and had recently come across it again. Vaguely, he wondered if it would be of any use to the person he was going to meet up with, but decided against touching it. He really hated violence.  
Muttering a soft prayer as he noted a particularly prominent splotch of red adorning a tree, Gary's eyes washed over the terrain in hopes that the walkers had moved on from this point. He wondered why they even bothered with the forest if they hungered for human flesh more than anything. Although animals were plentiful, most of them knew where to hide in places that Satan's army couldn't find. Places much less conspicuous than a cabin. Thank God it at least had a lock.  
He sighed. The need to use the bathroom was very sparse for him, but he felt the urge building - though he assumed it may have been mostly in anticipation at seeing a (semi)regular human being's face again.

* * *

Bad words made for bad feelings? What an odd lesson to be taught, where as Christophe and his mother used to sling around curse worse at eachother in as many languages as they'd known. Wholesome family value wasn't very, well, valued, within the De'Lorne home. It may have shaped him for the better, as he'd never learned to properly open up emotionally - which had kept him from wracks of guilt so far.

"Decapitation isn't exactly a land mark anymore." This was stated matter of factually, almost insulted by the lacking bits of information he was [or was not] receiving. Never the mind, it would not be the most difficult task to complete. Tedious and taxing, of course.

Oh if Christophe only knew that this little shit had passed up a shot gun. It couldn't have been very likely to be loaded, but the fact that it was there - able to be loaded was more than a blessing and the lords little Morminion failed to recognise or appreciate this at all.

"No." Harshed Christophe in response to the question.

"I did not have much time for such childish activities." Though he had completed Dementium a few times over, DS games did not count.

"I was far too busy learning to shoot in the real world, something that is far more valuable than tacking on an achievement for head shots in virtual reality." Which was never any where near as easy as any game had ever made it seem.

Unfortunately there was absolutely no logic as to why the dead would be lugging about through dense forest and buzzing insects. They lacked just that, there was no thought or reason left within them to deduce where their food might be more plentiful. They simply saw, acted, moved. Drawn in of course by sound, or the smell of what might be dinner.

Unless they caught sign of anything edible, they seemed to merely exist for the sake of existing.

"Fuck me." He breathed. As for the cussing, it hadn't let up. For Gary's sake, at least it hadn't become as vibrant as usual.

The exclamation was made as he began to witness signs of old tire tracks, posts, what might have at one point been a small garden. Things pointing to what one might refer to as a home - a cabin perhaps. Practically jumping onto the beaten pathway, he would have sprint if not for fatigue and the heavy pack weighing him down. He did however break into a light jog.

"Honey, I'm home." He sang into the speaker, slowing gradually as he made his way to the entrance, siding around the front to eye for any uninvited guests and then backing up onto the step way to watch for the other.

"I do not know what you look like, but I will assume you are the only living person that approaches me."

* * *

Gary laughed; this man always seemed to have some sort of comment, no matter what. It was charming. Despite the fact that it was obvious he wasn't the social butterfly Gary often was depicted to be, he thought that his French friend would be very entertaining to many people. Maybe he could be a comedian. Gary chuckled softly to himself at the irony of the very thought. He'd imagined a very uncomfortable audience, torn between laughing and getting up to depart.  
Gary fiddled with his bandaged scratch over his arm which was very close to being fully healed. "That's true. I guess video games aren't for everyone. Besides, it's a lot more fun if you can play sports. My family and I love to play laser tag." He stated, smile in place. "…Board games are nice too, though."  
For some reason, he had a feeling that this boy wouldn't agree with that.  
Ignoring the curse, Gary began to walk faster, noting that the side of the cabin was finally reaching his line of sight. "Awesome! I'm almost there, myself." His face lit up. Finally!  
Recognition finally set in to the fact that he really wasn't going to be alone; while he'd realized it before, it hadn't settled in until that point, and he wiped a bit of the dirt from his cheek as relief overwhelmed him. He hadn't seen a person who wasn't cannibalistic and crazed in over a month and it had been destroying his psyche. He noted that his shivers had died down much more since he'd began to speak with this guy, too, which was an excellent sign of mental recovery.  
Maybe he didn't even need the whole "zombie" thing to go away; maybe he just needed to be around other people? It made sense to him. Being the type of person he was it was rough to go for so long without social interaction. It was only a shame that this was the first uninjured person he got to before it was too late… He truly wished he could have done more for those poor souls. But their lives had been in God's hands, not his, so he pushed them out of his mind and made his way towards the wooden structure that was only a few feet above him, making a bee line for the porch.  
To say that Gary was pumped would have been an understatement. He wished he had a fun game of Agricola or Chess that he could have played with this guy.  
"All right," he cheered in excitement, wondering with glee what color hair his new friend had, and how tall he was.

* * *

Shifting his own weight, and letting the pack he'd been hauling drop down his arms, he allowed his back a small rest. Tilting his head upward, to eye the movement he'd caught through the roughage - while he wasn't expecting to see anyone else, it was entirely possible it be something else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Note: when I made Gary, my original intent was to make him 5'6". However, I mistyped and wrote him in as 6'5". The mistake was too funny for me not to keep, and that's why Christophe references him to be so tall.**

* * *

**On The Move in the Rockies: Part Three**

* * *

In the time it had taken Gary to happily trot up to where he stood waiting, Christophe had managed an entire internal three part rant concerning just how ridiculously useless the game 'Risk' might have been in this situation. In fact if him and his family were playing 'risk' it was safe to say they'd more than likely never taken a risk in their freaking lives.

Present pandemic excluded.

There was an unfamiliar wave of thankfulness at seeing a living, breathing human bound up the steps - even an audible sigh, followed by a rather snappy;

"Christ you're a fucking giant!" He hissed in disappointment [More so over his own stature] as he was finally met by the other. Side by side and literally looking up to the lanky blonde through messy brown fringe.

What a hello.

Though the height difference was immediately visible, the small grungy Frenchman standing a good seven inches below the blonde behemoth he'd been chatting up the passed 34 hours.

Testing the door, he found it unlocked, turning back to give his new company a bewildered look.

"You found viable shelter and you leave it unlocked?" It almost sounded as if he was chastising a child, throwing the moaning door open before stepping cautiously inside.

Suppose he couldn't have found a key, or did not know how to pick a lock - but it was still a pretty foolish move. Others could have found it, barred it up, and left the both of them stranded.

People were not as forgiving as Gary seemed to believe.

"Come on Sasquatch." He sighed, shrugging the pack back onto his shoulders so he could carefully slide about the interior of the [tacky] cabin. Stopping short in front of a terribly mounted moose head.

"Hicktastic."

Integrating himself back into physical interactions would certainly be a challange. Christophe himself was one who had no problem with prolonged seclusion and that may or may not make this new found 'relationship' difficult. Especially if Gary had any [incorrect] notion that he planned on sticking around longer than a few days, if not a week at best.

* * *

Gary laughed giddily as he examined his new friend. "Hello to you too," he held out his hand with the intention of a hand-shake, at this point completely blocking out any words that he deemed inappropriate.

He certainly hadn't expected someone so frequently peeved and no doubt actively violent to be so… Short, but he supposed that people came in all shapes and sizes. Once, he recalled hearing one of the guys from school mention that 'smaller guys were always angrier', and he assumed that there must have been some truth to that saying. Maybe that only made his new friend better at playing hide and seek, though.

The height difference wasn't nearly as notable as the fact that while Gary was unkempt, bloody, and dirty, his fellow survivor was significantly more so. He assumed this must have had to do with the fact that he was more interactive with the damned. Surely no one enjoyed being that filthy under normal circumstances? On the other hand, this wasn't a normal person he was dealing with.

"I figured someone else might end up needing it along the way, and I didn't want to make their travels anymore difficult." He smiled crookedly at the other's expression. Hicktastic was certainly a unique term for it. "…Yep. It sure is homey in here! It's not really my favorite type of decor, but I'm sure the people who used to be here were nice."

Gary's smile only widened at the pine scent of the cabin, if not a little dry and musty. "…Boy, it sure does reek. But it beats the smell of rotting flesh." He chattered as he set down his back and reclined on a chair. At least they had relatively comfortable furniture.

"So! I know you said you don't do names or anything, but is there something I can call you? I mean, not to pressure you, though. Feel free to just be nameless." His voice rang with sincerity as he adjusted his bandage to peek beneath, making sure it wasn't infected.

His eyes ran over Nameless' weary face, noting the bags. "…Oh geez. I don't mean to bombard you with questions or anything. You must be so tired! Do you want to go lay down? There's a couch right over there, and I think there's a bed on the second floor…"

* * *

Having actively dismissed the handshake in favor of examining his new surroundings, Christophe offered Gary several looks through out the course of his small rambling - all reading 'you have got to be kidding me.'

Thankful for the freedom to remove his pack, he finally set it down, haphazardly tossing it onto the floor so that he might roll his shoulders as they were do for a good stretch. "Someone else, implying anyone else out there is even breathing." In all likely hood, he knew there were sparse clusters of survivors, stragglers. Yet it seemed so…dead. What a fitting description.

Instead of taking, or even listening, to the advice so kindly aimed in his direction, Christophe chose to walk the living area. Steel toed boots thudding along the warn wood as he lazed about, scanning everything from the cabinets to the rafters. While Gary had stated being here before, Christophe had already come to the conclusion on appearance alone, that he was no where near as resourceful as himself.

Certain items, useful artifacts, were surely left unturned. He would make point to rifle through everything later - if not for rations, then for another sharp edge weapon. His favorite having fallen as a casualty to a hoard he'd encountered in Denver.

As the onslaught of questions continued, Christophe's attention was whipped right back to the reclining blond, a look of 'quoi' settled on his features though it was more sarcastic than genuinely confused.

"I do not know you." He began in a voice that wondered just why Gary would think he'd willingly lay himself down, vulnerable to whoever this kid was. [As dull as he was.]

"Just because I have agreed to meet you, this does not mean I trust you - there are a few things we need to go over." Suggesting the beginnings of a not so friendly discussion.

Eventually he mossied back over to the few chairs and the couch, taking residence in the one opposite his 'little buddy' though he sat on the edge, hands rested on his knees.

"Number one: This is not a friend ship - I don't know you, you don't know me, and I do not see that changing." He held up a finger to signal the end of the point.

"Number two: Anything you might need, that I have? Comes at a price, I expect the same. My supplies are limited and needed by me. which brings us to Three: I am my priority. If shit goes down and you get backed into a corner, I am not coming for you, I do not have time to play Jesus."

Two more fingers.

"Four and most importantly: If you wrong me - if you fuck me over -" He stopped a moment to stare his company down, not trying in particular to be intimidating, more so to get his point across -

"I will. Shoot. You."

* * *

Gary blinked. Multiple times, in fact. He was rather dazed that someone could so openly act so hostile and cold. Chalking it up to this boy being paranoid and irritated from lack of sleep, Gary was tempted to repeat that there were places to rest, but restrained. Instead, he nodded in understanding, momentarily silent with deep contemplation.

This guy reminded him of someone he'd once seen in a movie. Not directly, of course; he'd only seen clips that his teacher had shown him, being that Mr. Garrison had some strange fascination with media that he liked to portray to his students. At times, Gary had felt guilty for seeing some of the things he had (one time he saw a woman's derriere, not in anatomically educating context, and had to look away), but he supposed it wasn't any worse than the situation he was in now - that of being with a man that apparently had no qualms with murdering someone he'd spent the day trying to meet.

Maybe Nameless didn't consider it a friendship, but Gary most certainly did. How could they not be? They'd spend almost two days speaking and had crossed mountain terrain with the chance of death heavy on their shoulders just to meet up. Mentally reiterating that he did, in fact, have things he could give to this short man, he was relieved to know that this would be a sharing session.

Finally, he perked up. "Well, that sounds reasonable to me. Do what you need to, I understand." His lips raised up to create a familiar smile. "But I can promise you that I don't want to do anything that'll give you any problems." Gary assured him.

That having been said, he fiddled in his bag to touch his book for a sense of comfort. This was a rocky friendship. He'd had a few uncomfortable relationships before, but none were comparable to this.

Gary took in the appearance of the short, nameless, and ruthless man before him. He seemed well equipped for a zombie apocalypse. Additionally, he had the personality to survive. Gary felt proud for him, wanting to wish him a good job and pat him on the back, though judging from what had so recently happened, he kept it to himself.

In exchange, he stood up and stretched.

"You know, if we weren't under the attack of Satan right now, I'd think you could be a movie star." He chuckled, more to himself than to his friend. "When this whole thing ends, you should look into that."

He grinned toothily and walked over the battery lamp conveniently located on a table just across the room, flicking it on as he drew the curtains. "I bet someone out there is working on a way to fix all this."

Gary held in a sigh. Helping others was what his family did. It was what he wanted to keep on doing for the rest of his life. But knowing that in this instance, he had to rely one someone else's help, someone who may or may not really exist, was painful.

* * *

Despite it being Christophe himself who had dealt the threats [rightfully so in his mind] it was also he himself who was taken back by the others ability to practically skip right back into that smile. Individuals with such high morale were certainly an oddity for him, especially considering this kid had justified the possibility of being shot with a grin and a laugh.

"Movie star.." In no way accurate to what he had been doing before shit mountain erupted. "It would be too much attention."

"I prefer to keep discrete."

His own expression changed as Gary rose, from stern to properly confused, not only for his companies attitude towards their new set of rules, but the things he spoke of, the way he worded them.

He had kept not only faith, but religion, while the world around him was crumbling and others threw their bibles in for kindling.

It would be admirable, if it wasn't out right idiocy.

"You think this is Satan?" He asked, the same tone as he'd had before. "That somewhere there's a white night, working their way to fix Hell on Earth?" For all he knew, maybe it was Satan - though it seemed far less likely to be either entity. This was man. Man and man alone, God had simply chosen not to intervene.

Gary's hope inexplicably infuriated the shorter male who rose to gesture towards the door way, towards out there.

"This? This is us - we did this. We deserve this. It's not Satan, it's disease, and if you pull something out of your ass about Disease being one of the four Horsemen I will beat you with the good book."

Having foregone his name, or any illusion towards what he might be called, he slammed the door that had been left open, locking its three locks in a frustrated hurry.

"Even with how many have you put down - and you are still so naive?"

* * *

"Sure." He said casually. "Satan has done some pretty cruel things. I don't know who else would have."

Gary's brows furrowed in confusion as he seemed to continue on about how this was the fault of mankind, and he decided to chime in. "…Well. I know it's not what everyone thinks, but I believe that people sin because Satan makes us feel like we should. And even if we somehow started this whole thing, Satan was behind it and he's still behind it now." He smiled wearily. "No one deserves this."

He returned to his seat, hunching over with his hand slung over the outside of his bag, fingers brushing across the fabric where he knew his book was located.

"…Likewise, God works through people, too. I think He's helping someone - inspiring them - to work for some way of fixing all of this." His face took on a distant expression of happiness at the thought of God trying to fend off the evil that plagued their earth.

He heard the comment about being naive, but chose to pretend he hadn't, and instead let out a small sigh when a shudder raked down his spine. Dang.

Suddenly, he looked up. "I don't want to impose my beliefs on you, though. I think it's great that you have your own unique thoughts and ideas." Having said this, he finally relaxed, sitting back just a bit.

Maybe his unnamed friend had a poor encounter with God in the past? He'd known ex-Mormons who had lost faith one way or another, and there was a possibility that this boy had, too.

In all honesty, Gary had no clue how his friend went on without faith. What was there to hope for if one didn't have a God in their life? What was there to live for? His lips fell into a frown and he suddenly felt a surge of compassionate sadness for the French loner he'd come to (sort of) befriend. How anyone could survive merely to survive was beyond him.

There had to be some sort of motive to live in there that Gary didn't know of. He wished to find out but didn't feel right asking, so instead opted to look intently at his friend, smile still not having deteriorated.

* * *

It wasn't that Christophe had lost his faith along the way. No Holy dependence had been stripped from his consciousness at any point, he had simply never gotten in line to receive the Good Word from the Good Lord. It was by choice entirely.

There was a God in his life, but he was certainly no fan. It showed on his expression just how baffled the conversation in its entirety had left the disheveled Mole, mouth slightly agape with a subtle shake of the head. Where as Gary had thought himself stead fast, Christophe saw this man as foolish, stupid and blind.

"People sin because they choose to, I know this for a fact considering none of my sins were done in the name of Satan, The lord of buttfucking darkness can kiss my buttfucking ass." He harshed, moving back and away from the door, over to the heaviest object he could find and physically move - heaving it in front of one of the windows at either side of the entrance way.

While geeks couldn't pick a lock, they could break a window if truly determined and he wasn't intent on making that mistake again.

"No one is working towards anything anymore other than their next meal, and a new bed." He rasped, fussing until the small book case was pressed tight against the window, after which he threw his arms back to his side and heaved a quick, agitated breath.

"And if he is there, why fucking wait? Why let millions of people suffer, and eradicate the human race in such a dismal way when he is supposed to be this graceful Swan Lake mother fucker? Don't you think he could have been a little more tactile? Hm?-"

Throwing his arms out in questioning motions he advanced to the next piece of furniture - a writing desk that he tugged in front of the door, still wondering what to do about the second porch level window.

"A little more clean? Forgiving?"

Once he'd situated that, he began walking the living area again, circling the couches a few times while he gathered the thoughts his anger had scattered.

Christophe saw no reason in living vicariously through a God that had left long ago for a beach house in Maui, stranding everyone else to fend for themselves - he lived, fought, survived for one person, and one person only; Himself.

He lived because he did not want to die.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Likewise, where Gary could not see how this man pushed through with no faith, Christophe could not understand how Gary retained his. If nothing else, his persistence was admirable.

After rounding the same area a good couple times, he stopped to pick up his pack - thankful for the sun that was still shining other wise he would have shattered that little light Gary had lit up. In the dark, it would attract everyone from Walkers to survivors.

* * *

Gary laughed; how one could so easily insult Satan without a second thought struck him as incredibly brave, and he had half a mind to shush his friend for fear of Satan hearing. While he openly shunned him, calling him by those words had never been on Gary's agenda.

"Maybe that's what you think, but I sure hope someone out there has enough resources to do otherwise." He watched in interest. A blockade had been created by Gary himself before, but hadn't done so in awhile, eventually having tossed aside the precaution in favor of fresh air.

Gary's fingers toyed with the hem of his bag before delving inside to brush over his book, a happy sigh flowing from his mouth.

"Well, sometimes what He does doesn't seem right at first, but in the long run, it always makes sense." He rose to a stand. "Do you need any help?"

He glanced to the stairs. It would be harder to move things around up there, being that there weren't as many items, but he supposed the bed would be useful for blocking. On the other hand, while he acknowledged his friend's strength, he had a feeling that the guy probably wouldn't be pleased to move it on his own. Especially considering the fact that he apparently had missed a year of growth.

His lips parted to show a full toothed grin as he thrust his hands into his pockets and once again took in Nameless' height. He wondered if there was a difference in the amount of caffeine they took (or rather, in the caffeine Gary didn't take), and if that had anything to do with the height difference.

All that aside, Gary knew walkers weren't prone to climbing, but he figured it was a precaution and that it might as well have been best to be thorough.

* * *

"The FBI, The Military, The CDC." A small list of names the general public always seemed to believe would come through, he knew better.

"Do you really think where these equip individuals had failed, some random straggler will prevail?" The conversation had dumbed down from open shouting to irritated questions.

"I am willing to bet they played part in this." He added, looking up at the other with a wagging finger, free hand dropping the camouflage back pack onto the armrest of the chair nearest so he could undo the ridiculous amount of buckles, and equipment that were strapped up top; An small ammo box, half full of various shells and bullets - some to guns not currently in his possession. A sheathed Ka-Bar 2-2211-5, and climbing gear all tucked under more rope.

After undoing these few items he threw them aside. He'd rather have them scattered and where he could get to them easily instead of fastened to the large hiking pack. After pulling what he could from the top and front holds, he went in side the main compartment. Tossing out two wide mouthed Gatorade bottles, both of which were stuffed with more various pieces of ammo. [Should he ever need to cross a body of water, he reasoned that this would keep the shells dry and usable while the lock box kept the gun in the same condition.]

After those, a note book that was filled to the brim with various pieces of loose paper; envelopes pages torn from books, anything he could write on all stuffed inside a college ruled pad.

Everything else was kept concealed except for the decently sized box of REMS he had to [quite literally] fish from the bottom of the pack.

Anything and everything he deemed of use was shoved into its various pockets and compartmentalized. Though despite the items now scattered on the couch [and the ones kept from site] he was significantly low considering what he'd started out with.

Heaving the box to the floor, he allowed himself to crouch down. Tired of standing - and staring up [way up] at the boy - and then to the stairs where Gary had been looking himself.

"I do not." He hissed, shifting his weight onto one foot so that he could lift his shirt, exposing the holster that held his current primary weapon. Though this wasn't what he was reaching for. From the pocket in his jeans he produced a [one of a few] baggy concealing a package of cigarettes, a few loose, bent cigars, and a zippo.

The reason for his lack of height, along with genes - was not, in fact, caffeine. While he had taken in a considerable amount of coffee in his time, Cigarettes held most of the blame. Though the half empty bottle of Whiskey still hiding behind the camo fabric had played a role at one point or another way back when.

"Food." He pointed to the box with one hand, unsheathing one of the packs steel water bottles from its side with the other and holding it up as if to say 'look what else I have.'

"Water."

"What do you have for me?"

* * *

Gary smiled knowingly. "God has a plan." It was no longer a subject he wished to discuss any further, seeing as it was going no where, and finding that his pal was only becoming irritated. The last thing he wanted to do was contribute to his seemingly ever-present sour mood.

Maybe his friend really needed sleep. Or a good cup of hot chocolate. It was a shame that those were impossible to come by those days, however.

He watched in interest as the other man threw things about, fingers drumming on his knee. This guy really did travel a lot heavier than Gary himself did; then again, Gary didn't need much. He was more flight than fight. He hoped that he would, in fact, have something to offer.

He noted the book that was clearly used to it's full potential. "You write a journal?" He asked, smile broadening at the thought.

That was so great. Journals were always a way to keep oneself from bottling up emotions, and Nameless sure could use some stress relief. Gary would have done the same, but he lacked paper, and instead relayed most of his emotions to God. The ones he thought his Father wanted to hear of, anyway.

_A shudder._

The cigarettes, however, made his smile falter. Smoking was a terribly unhealthy habit and as far as Gary was concerned, people that did it had their reasons to need that coping skill. A deep sadness struck him at the thought of this boy having had a very sad home life, and he mumbled a small prayer to himself for the other man's well being.

After the almost inaudible, one-sided talk with God, Gary's face brightened, particularly at the sight of food. He only had two cans of baked beans left and a few waters. At some point, he knew he'd probably have to start hunting, but the last thing he wanted was to kill some poor animals.

"I have a first aid kit, a few maps - oh, those aren't in very good condition, but I'm sure you'll be able to read them better than I can - and… Well, I have a lighter too."

Seeing as Nameless already had one, he wasn't sure how much use it would be to him, but he shrugged and continued to dig through his bag, laughing to himself as he came across toothpaste and placed it onto the floor with the other items he'd listed, along with a bottle of hand-sanitizer… Even though what his partner in trade needed was a serious bath. Those, however, were no longer available. He tugged out a pencil case that had been filled with pens; perhaps those would be useful, seeing as Nameless apparently had a diary.

The only other things that Gary had in his possession were pictures of his family, the Book of Mormon, and a pocket knife, which at this point it was safe to assume that the well-stocked boy didn't need.

His lips drew upwards even further, eyes crinkling as he shrugged. "Uh, yep. Take whatever you want, buddy. Sorry about not having a lot."

* * *

"So do the rest of us." It was more to himself than the boy kneeling next to him. A dry affirmation of his own 'beliefs while he watched as Gary lay out the few items he did have. In return, Christophe opened up the box, pulling out three of the eight instant meals and tossing them into their little circle of friendship and trust.

Rainbows etc.

While the pens did intrigue him [childishly] they were not for the diary Gary suspected - in fact it was far from that. "The pages are blank." He offered after a moment, unzipping the case to peer inside and rifle through, picking out a few markers of various colors; Orange, Red, Green and Blue along with another black one to replace his own dying pen.

Dropping those in his lap, he took the first aid kit [Not at all shy about foregoing 'Mother may I's'] undoing that so he could look through it. He took one of a few packs of the longer gauze, a couple alcohol wipes, and dumped a few pills from the bottle of ibuprofen into the packet holding his cigarettes.

After which, he pulled out one of said sticks to pop in his mouth, and though he took his own lighter out, that went in his pocket. Leaving the roll of chemicaled tobacco to hang between his lips while he put his stuff away.

In the assumption that he hadn't had a very happy family life, Gary would be correct. If you could call the two De'Lornes family rather than mutual acquaintances that resided under the same roof. Antoinette never thought to teach the wholesome family love Gary's parents apparently ground into his head with an ice pic.

Rather than God loving, she was God fearing, and it reflected through her son.

"Neither do I." He grumbled - though having more than Gary himself. He feared having to make a trip to the suburbs for supplies. They were closer than the City, easier to access.

Not as easy to get out of unfortunately.

Once he'd cleared all of his un-needed items, shoving them into various pockets, he flipped out the lighter, motioning to the small pile Gary still had out.

"No weapons?" He asked, annoyed by this fact. Put off, more like, though this did not keep him from lighting the rolled paper in his mouth.

* * *

Gary watched him with interest. He found it much like when he used to donate to the homeless with his family; which was ironic, seeing as he and this boy were both now homeless.

He took the meals that were offered and gratefully slipped them into his bag. "Thank you."

His frown returned, even if for a fraction of a second, as he saw the cigarette enter his friend's mouth, but held in the sigh that was bubbling within his chest. Smoking was his choice, and Gary respected that.

Gary's life was almost an inverse of Nameless'. His family was tight-knit, and they loved both each other as well as God. While Gary's religion made one half of his life, his family made the other, and he reasoned that their absence was the hardest thing about the apocalypse for him.

He tapped his fingers against The Book of Mormon as he openly stared. "…Nope. I don't really… Fight them." His grin turned sheepish. "I think they're still human, somewhere in there."

He paused, before flicking the pocket knife out of his bag. "I do have this, but I don't think it'd do much good on them." He laughed to punctuate his point as he stretched.

"You're very brave for fighting them off."

Gary imagined Nameless doing just that; murdering the damned. It was a strange mental image, especially considering that he could hardly even picture someone trying. Though he supposed, if anyone were to manage, it would have to be this guy.

* * *

Gary's politeness went once again un-noted as Christophe thumbed through the pens, shoving the red one in between the crinkled papers of his overstuffed book. While the stick had been lit it hung there idly after the first inhale, more of a comfort than anything else at the moment.

What he was doing, though just lifeless shuffling about, was cut short by a sharp look up, staring at the still kneeling boy with the Cigarette bit between his teeth. "You don't fight them?" This, he could not seem to fathom. Not in a sense that he believe everyone should be going out of their way to slaughter any straggler they'd caught in the corner of their eye - but because it was, at times, absolutely necessary.

"You've never put one down, in the one-hundred and eighty-six days since this started? Never been backed into a corner, or had to kill a close friend to keep them from ripping your insides out?" It was clear just how aggravated this bit of information had left him. The lit stick now in his hand as he waved both around, casting ash down onto the floor.

'Nameless' had in fact been pinned down several times before, his first encounter with the storm of infected had been with one. A single infected, in his own home, who had attacked him at the crack of dawn.

"You haven-you haven't had to, kill any family, or fend them off of some poor fuck who was being made into a human happy meal."

For a brief second, his voice cracked, angered that this kid had gotten off so lightly so far.

"Not a single son of a bitch dead at your hands." This was said more incredulously, attempting to piece together just how it would be possible to have avoided not only single geeks, but an entire hoard.

* * *

Gary watched, initially surprised at his friend's sudden indignation, but realized that it was understandable, considering that this boy had been forced to do such things..

"I've been mostly avoiding them. I got out of the city when this whole mess started, and they're a lot easier to get away from out here." He answered, licking his gradually drying lips. "… And I think that God is protecting me."

And if God was protecting Gary, then it stood to reason in the young Mormon's mind that God would also be protecting his family. At least, he prayed He would be.

"…I don't think I'd be able to kill them," he admit in continuation. "To me, they're still human beings. Maybe someday they'll be normal again, and I don't want to take away their chances."

He couldn't imagine God being very pleased if he were to have murdered. His family, either. Distantly, he wondered if they'd been pushed to such extremes, but he quickly shook away the thought, believing that they were somewhere safe and warm. All of them.

Suddenly, Gary's lips drooped. "…Have you had to kill anyone that was important to you?"

A wave of sadness to accompany the one prior fell over him. The idea of someone being forced to do such a thing was almost inconceivable to Gary, and he realized that in order to fix the negative mood that hung over his friend, he would need more than just a good night's rest.

* * *

"Lucky you." He rasped in a sarcastic, patronizing tone, ignoring the burning filter held fast between his fingers as his thoughts had taken a different route, sending him off on a much less likable tangent. Though he knew, better than anyone or so he'd convinced himself, no tangent lately had been anything close to pleasant.

Locating another living person was mild 'eh' at best. Who it was that the good lord had dropped off in the mail however, was far less favorable so far than if he would have kept moving as was the initial plan.

"But you will." The nameless stranger continued, aiming the hand holding the half burnt out cigarette in Gary's direction before letting it finally find way between his teeth once more for a rather lengthy drag.

As far as he'd gotten, with the help of God's glory or otherwise, there was surely a time allotted down the road where Gary would have to drop the book he white knuckled and fight.

The thought, twisted as it was, almost broke the deep scowl that had set in on his features, lip twitching when the question was begged whether or not someone important to him was put down at his own hand.

"I do not know if I would call her important." He thought aloud, deciding to move with a trajectory this time, headed for the stairs.

Sleep, though desperately needed, would not prove to be a cure all, and as he trudged up the stairs began mumbling silently in his mothers tongue. Likely cursing just what he had been this entire time. God, and this fucking minion of a Mormon.

"Morminion."

He snarled. Reaching the top step where he pressed himself against the wall to edge along childishly into the first door he could find, thankful that it was a small bedroom.

_Note:_

_my hopeful turned out to be a bible-slinging, god fearing nut job._

_the only thing more prominent than his shit-eating grin?_

_he stands at the exact same height as the eiffel fucking tower._

_he could WALK over the infected if he wanted_

_seriously Waldo?_

_at least you're easy to spot playing eye-spy._

* * *

An incredulous expression was etched onto Gary's features at the prediction of him giving in to the clutches of sin. He tilted his head, eyes drawn to the smoldering flame of the cigarette. He almost opened his mouth to object, but held fast, instead replacing the look of confusion with yet another one of his smiles.

It thinned, however, when his question was finally returned with an answer, and Gary felt sorry for his friend. Murder was not an easy task, he presumed, and especially not upon those who you had been close to. He couldn't even begin to fathom the concept of being forced to take the life of a member of his family.

The thought sent yet another shudder down his spine.

He thought to follow Nameless, deciding it better to sleep in the near vicinity to someone rather than away from them in a zombie apocalypse, but first decided to recite his usual evening prayer.

"Father in Heaven," he began quietly, so as not to disturb his companion. "I want to give you thanks for watching over me. You've been the most compassionate God anyone could have ever asked for, and I hate to ask you more, but I know that no request is too much for you to fulfill." He sighed. "Please watch over my family and make sure they're safe, along with my friends, and Stan Marsh."

A pause, as he contemplated for a moment. "…And please Lord God, lift the soul of my friend. He's going through a rough time right now, and I really think he needs you in his heart." Gary smiled sadly as he whispered. "In Jesus' name I pray, amen."

That having been said, he poked his head into the stairwell, eying the room Nameless had gone into. He followed the path no doubt taken and knocked softly on the door before opening it. "Mind sharing a room?" He inquired.


	4. Chapter 4

**On The Move in The Rockies: Part Four**

* * *

Murder, the necessity of committing such an act, was not what weighed on him. He was practiced - well versed in fact. What pulled him down was the relation to the aforementioned woman. Despite having a relationship built only on blood obligation, and even at that, one shot full of holes filled with bleeding arguments and roaring verbal abuse on both end - she was his mother.

Hated or loved, her name was also De'Lorne. And that was what churned his insides, what pressed and pushed at his ribs from behind them, urging him to scream at the top of his lungs. Urging him to shout the way he did when he had to fight her off by plunging the jagged edge of a shovel into her throat and hacking until she quit fumbling to a stand.

This information was his, and his alone. No one, especially some lumbering fuck he'd only just met, needed to know specifically who it had happened to, or specifically what had happened.

In the time Gary took speaking with his imaginary friend, Christophe had scouted the room, finding, surprise, a Bible in one of the bedside drawers at which he scoffed. He did take a moment to flip it open and tear the first page out, reaching for the red marker he'd jammed into his pocket earlier so that he could scrawl something across the now decrepit page.

_Note:_

_I can hear you praying for me, but save your breath._

_I_

_don't_

_want_

_his_

_help_

_He's not listening anyways._

He perked from what he was doing to cast a sharp stare in the direction of his new 'buddy', capping the marker before he slapped the note down onto the night stand.

"Why not-" He asked in a sardonic tone. "We already live together, don't we sunshine?"

Though obviously not in the least bit thrilled, he figured it better. This kid had no intention to protect himself, if something or someone got in, Gary would do little to stop them raiding, or devouring, either man.

This way he could keep an eye on the boy - not in a sense that would keep him safe, but that would keep him from doing anything stupid like bartering supplies they needed to get out of a tight situation.

They.

"Ugh."

Not planning on getting comfortable, Christophe merely lay atop the covers, fully clothed, boots and all.

"Lights out." He shot sarcastically, considering the sun was still fairly high.

* * *

Gary sighed as he took off his shoes and tucked himself beneath the covers, smiling and almost instantly drifting off to a world of sleep. Before he departed, he blearily registered Nameless writing something down. He didn't have time to wonder what it was, however, as darkness consumed his mind.

For awhile, there was a peaceful nothingness, until a blurry world began to materialize around him; Gary looked around in confusion, unknowing as to where he was.

There seemed to be average lighting. There were trees, much like he'd seen before, but they were widely distanced and clean; not a speck of blood anywhere in sight. A deer trotted in the distance. He couldn't hear the birds singing, but he did see one flutter by, and it was a welcome relief. Nothing at all appeared to be out of the ordinary, and Gary supposed that it was a happy change for him.

With a grin, he stepped forward, only to feel something… Strange. He looked down, and discovered that in the place he'd stepped, he'd also begun to sink. His brows furrowed, but before he could even move, the peaceful yet strange world began to crumble violently, leaving Gary a gasping mess as he back-stepped and attempted to avoid it… To no avail.

"Gary, your family is dead." A harsh voice whispered to him, one that he didn't recognize, and he shook his head furiously as the world trembled and fell in on itself, Gary being sucked in as well.

"They're gone. They left you."

"They're fine," he argued, face contorting into fear.

There was no answer, however, as darkness swallowed him whole.

His eyes didn't open, but he awoke to warmth and instantly knew he was no longer sleeping; a frown in place of where his usual smile was. He had nightmares most every time he slept, and they generally pertained to his family no longer being alive.

Finally, he dared to open his eyes, only to discover that it was still dark. In confusion, he looked down, before finding himself completely wrapped around his friend, not unlike the other man was a stuffed animal, face shoved into the crook of Nameless' neck.

"Oh," he whispered softly.

* * *

It was a while after Gary had gone under before Christophe had even given himself chance to relax, rigid right up until his eyes fought to close against his better judgement.

In a meek attempt to keep consciousness, he reached for the radio keeping the paper ink side down to toy with it a while, speaking softly into the mic, rambling on a while before letting the hand holding it fall limp onto his chest with a groggy. "Christ, he snores." Directed at the sleeping Gary.

* * *

Channel: 4 -  
Frequency: Fair.  
Static: Heavy.

_He's out, like a fucking light - this kid I've just barely met has knocked out side by side in bed together like we're a fucking wedded couple._

_I can't help but wonder how he's so forgiving -_

_There's a cabin, in the Rockies - the location from there is up to whoever is listening to determine if they still have the capacity left to do so, or maybe whoever's catching this is doing so from a discarded walkie-talking, radio - something._

_There's a good chance you don't even understand what the fuck I'm saying -_

_Even better chance you can't hear me at all._

_I suppose this was just to hear myself talk, but if anyone else is out there, and willing to babysit -_

_Sasquatch can't be too hard to take care of can he?_

_One more thing before I go;_

_If you met a gun toting stranger in the middle of the woods, would you trust him? Enough to fall asleep with him?_

_I wouldn't_

_Christ, he fucking snores. _

* * *

__The signal however weak at first, finally goes down - the muffled, hushed voice of whomever was on the other line replaced by white noise.

After letting the radio hit his chest, the last thing he heard happened to be his own voice. Sleep, after having been avoided for the passed two days, over took him - though he did not dream, he could vividly recall the blackness. It seemed almost sentient. It was unsettling, yet went on.

Now that his body had finally relaxed and his mind fallen relatively silent his subconscious fought to keep him under for as long as absolutely possible. Even as his form was shifted on the mattress, tugged in by the body next to his own.

He vaguely recalls feeling the slight movement, the radiating warmth of another living, breathing being - and nothing again.

A more comfortable nothing, this time.

It remained that way for a while before the sound of inflating lungs and shallow breath stirred him awake. That same heat from…god how long ago was it? erupting around him. It was like a fucking cocoon - engulfing him entirely, making it a bit difficult to breath.

The panic was nothing drastic, but still present as his own breathing increased, compensating for the heat bearing down against his body, quickening until he jerked awake, their position causing both boys to knock heads with a dull thud.

"F-ck" He half muttered, loud enough to be heard, surely, as he kick at the covers that had somehow made their way half sprawled across his form - kicked off of Gary and across his own body.

"No." He muttered again, realizing the source of the heat, and the way he was tucked into the taller man, arms curled and Radio pressed to his chest while he lay practically in the fetal position, Gary's long arms draped around him like a fucking tent.

"No." He repeated louder. "No - off. Off off off." It got progressively more irritated, arms stretching to push half heartedly at the boys chest. Reluctant to move, or even wake and only all the more angered by his own hesitance.

He should be hitting, striking the other, kicking him away - and he did kick, once or twice in his fuss to untangle their limbs, curses building under his breath.

* * *

"Oh." Gary said, a bit louder this time, watching at first, in amusement as Nameless protested and struggled violently.

For a moment, he just stared, still disoriented from his dream. He couldn't help it; it was like his friend was a little animal, trying to get out of a cage. The idea humored Gary endlessly.

Slowly, he unwrapped himself from the small, warm body next to him. A laugh bubbled from his throat with a shake of the head.

"Sorry about that! I guess I thought you were a pillow." He joked.

One of his hands went to his forehead to wipe away some of the sweat that had no doubt gathered in his sleep, and he continued to laugh under his breath at the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Falling asleep next to a man that wouldn't hesitate to kill him, but going so far as to wrap himself around that guy was something else entirely.

Having initially thought his friend was the one in need of a hug, he chuckled at the fact that he probably needed one just as bad.

His eyes focused on his friend for a moment, before drawing back to the ceiling.

"Wow." He breathed simply. "I haven't had a hug in forever."

Even if it had been one sided and accidental, the fact that he'd embraced someone pleased him.

His smile faded ever so slightly as he thought on it, though. Would God be at all upset?

Two guys hugging in their sleep. Nothing wrong about that. Nothing… Sinful at all. Gary's eye twitched. It wasn't like he did it _because_ of any unholy thoughts. He laughed again, this time a much more uncomfortable sound, and scooted a bit further away from Nameless.

"Nope," he confirmed to himself.

Nothing wrong with it at all. He hadn't done it on purpose and he was sure God saw it that way too.

Just to be safe, he scooted even further away, still gravitating towards the middle as he coughed and tried to laugh again.

* * *

"Oh?- I'm fucking small enough." The shorter male rasped as he struggled against the thin sheets, voice raspy and nowhere near suitable for shouting just yet. Not that he should have the inkling considering the light pouring in from the window - that being that there wasn't any.

How long had they been out? A few hours at least. How obnoxious, he'd only planned on getting barely enough shut eye - leave it to Christophe to be the only person in the world right now complaining about too much sleep.

Radio still clutched tight, he brought an arm up to dab away the droplets formed on his own skin, pushing them back into his already sweat slicked hair with squinted eyes, attempting to adjust to the lack of illumination.

Nope?

While he had no idea that this was part of Gary's internal monologue, he did feel the need to comment on not being a pillow pet, that is before he noticed the boy inching across the sheets.

"You are more opposed to human contact than I am." He began as a jest, sprawling out against the mattress, the fingers that had curled around the radio dropping it off under his pillow where that hand also stayed once realizing just how cool the underside was.

"A few hours ago you practically had a boner over our fucking uniting, now you're acting as if I secrete poison in my sweat."

Not to be mistaken as an invitation, he himself was thankful for the newly spaced proximity, craning his head to look over at the nervous seeming Bible Slinger.

"You're going to scoot right off the fucking edge there sunshine."

* * *

Gary laughed, again, this time even more so shrill and awkward than the last, before the noise evolved into a cough and he ran a hand through his hair.  
"I don't dislike it, but it's um. Not something I think is okay, depending on… How it's done." He grinned, scratching his neck, although it wasn't itchy.  
He then licked his lips, wondering why every part of his body was perspiring and damp except for them.  
"…Well." He said simply, indeed close to teetering right off the edge of the bed as his eyes scanned the wooden floorboards beneath them and then the darkened ceiling above.  
Suddenly, he lacked words, and instead laughed. Again.  
Gary's hand ran down his face, covering it momentarily, until he turned so that his back was facing his companion.  
"Yep."  
Nope. Definitely nope.  
"Goodnight, buddy."  
He fidgeted, not feeling at all tired anymore, and allowed his eyes to wander across the wall, hoping that his friend would dismiss his lack of speech and undeniably awkward response to waking up and hugging another boy.  
That was just. No.  
As though to reassure himself, he whispered it again. "Nope."  
God didn't mind. It wasn't on purpose. A shudder ran through his system and he smiled weakly, before his teeth fell over his lips and chewed on them.  
His voice dropped even more so than before and he began to almost entirely inaudibly pray. "My father in Heaven, thank you for everything you've done…"  
He choked on his words and decided to simply close his eyes, instead mouthing the remaining words to his prayer as he desperately tried to grasp at sleep once more.  
It eluded him, however, and he instead continued to pray, even if silently at this point.  
He wished he could just apologize to Stan Marsh for having been unfriendly that one time when they were eight, so that these sort of feelings would go away and he wouldn't have to worry anymore.

* * *

What odd behavior - even for a boy who had proven entirely out of whack to begin with. The thought not losing its ironic humor on Christophe concerning it had in fact, come from him, he stay in place. Content to be sprawled out on the finally cooling mattress while the other fussed, turned, shifted.

Attempted to get comfortable, and all after what? He himself could have kicked up an even greater shit fit having woken up curled into a stranger like a child to its mother - how embarrassing that was, even more so when one took into account the height difference.

With an agitated sigh of his own, Christophe took to closing his eyes, wondering briefly if he would be able to catch any sleep at all after stirring himself so awake - though groggy, he was now consciously alert to the world around him, and just how disgustingly damp these sheets had become.

There was a half hearted attempted, one, and then another after shifting to stare at the opposite wall so he and Gary faced back to back, one hand again thumbing the radio kept under his pillow.

If one looked hard enough, there was a sitcom somewhere in this situation.

Too bad most producers were likely dead and gone.

After sitting in agitating silence, he kicked one foot to hang off the bed, a sneer tugging at his thin lips over just how much Gary had closed up after waking up and he couldn't help but ask, rather rudely mind you;

"Closeted?"

Referring of course to his Sexuality.

It was of course a tease, he had no actual time to spare worrying over the sexuality of an acquaintance.

* * *

Gary turned slightly and tapped his feet together, eyes rolling this way and that as he found himself incapable of sleep.  
Initially prayers soothed his raging mind, but as they continued on, he began to grow more conscious of the fact that he was under a curse that God had regrettably inflicted on him. And that in order to lift it, it meant apologizing to everyone he'd sinned against.  
His chest rose slowly and fell in a deep sigh, followed by one of his infamous shudders as he halted in his prayers and focused on clearing his mind instead.  
It almost worked, and may very well have allowed him sleep, had it not been for that one word that Gary had heard several times to describe secretly homosexual classmates and adults he'd known over the years.  
_Closeted_.  
Gary started so hard that he almost did fall off the bed, had it not been for his legs swinging down to catch him.  
He carefully pushed his limbs back onto the mattress with a soft laugh. "What? No, that's silly. I'm Mormon." he replied instantly.  
His fingers fiddled with each other. "Besides, that would be weird. If I were… Like _that_, I wouldn't. You know. Sleep next to you." His laugh, although interrupted by words, continued for less than a moment as he curled up more-so than before, still facing away from Nameless.  
"That would be strange." He stated, still playing with the ends of his fingers.

* * *

Like that? What back water religiously policed ideas had been stuffed into this kids head - He was honestly surprised those bright hazel eyes hadn't been clouded over with the lies this religion spoon fed him.

"Like that?" He echoed in a tone sounding almost disgusted, scrunching his face in question as he craned his neck to look back at the now sitting boy.

"I see no way that, _that_, would be weird." This time the question was more flat, bringing light to how little he would actually care should this kid be 'closeted' or otherwise. "Sleeping in the same bed as a homosexual does not mean you're going to fucking catch they rainbow, Sunshine, you have to do a little fucking taste testing first." He spat the words in Gary's direction.

Considering the mass amounts of tom fucker that had gone on in the world these passed few days, a mere hug should not have been the most shocking development in Gary's life, bible slinger or not.

"Listen, I realise we have significantly dampened your One man Pep-rally, probably just as much as these sheets - but gay is okay." He spoke in a sardonic tone, flaring his hands up and wiggling his fingers to show his sarcastic enthusiasm.

Christophe himself had never labeled his person with any sort of sexuality, being he could care less for sex itself - even lesser, he found it hard to care for people. Being around them, being intimate with them.

Though becoming intimate with anyone physically or other wise was a road block he may never get passed, we won't go into this now, and allow the teasing to progress instead.

"Besides." He gruffed, rolling back onto his side, "Your fucking religion doesn't dictate what does and does not make your dick rise. "

* * *

Gary listened silently.  
And even long after the words had ceased, he remained quiet, until finally, his hoarse voice left his lips.  
"…Nope."  
He turned to face his friend, eyes at first drawn to his own hands and then to the face before him. "My religion doesn't dictate it, but it lets me know about something a lot of people don't. Homosexuality is a curse. And if you feel like you want to be… Intimate, with someone of the same sex, it's because at one point you've done something in your life that's wrong, and God is punishing you."  
His eyes sunk once more, this time to the pillow flattened against the side of his head.  
"I'm sorry." His generally chipper voice now saddened and thrown into a whisper. "I don't want to push any beliefs onto people that don't agree and make you uncomfortable, but…"  
How many times had he said that to people after telling them something he believed in? He'd lost count.  
"It's wrong."  
He then rolled onto his back to face the ceiling. "It's wrong," he repeated, this time with a bit more volume. "It's like an addiction to sin. When you do something bad - like saying something mean to someone in the fourth grade because they denounced your religion - then God makes you want something you know you can't have, almost like a test to make sure you still love Him, which I always will of course, but if I give into temptation I think I'll lose the plan he has for my life."  
Gary sighed, drooping eyes the only semblance of emotion adorning his face.  
"So… Nope." He finished.

* * *

From his own point of view, every word spoken on Gary's behalf sounded more ludicrous than the last. Twisted by false ideals and feigned morals attempting to keep people on 'the right path' by psychologically fucking them into thinking the rule of God, no matter how irrational, was the word to follow.

"Stop fucking rationalizing your feelings away." This time, it was angry, a quick snap as he himself fell onto his back, genuinely upset over how easily this kid dismissed others love lives as a curse.

If anything, Religion was the curse. Binding millions, tricking them into believing twisted notions of purity.

"The good book is a fucking fairy tale - just because your imaginary friend has you on a leash does not mean billions of Homosexual men and women are sinning for being in love. It's not a fucking urge you prick, no one is punishing. You could apologise to anyone, everyone - become the fucking Pope, or whatever your big hat wearing status symbol is in Mormonism- "

He'd been kicked off on a rather harsh tangent, sitting up right in the bed so that he could swing his legs off the other side, boots landing heavy onto the wood.

"It's not going away - God will help you no more than he is helping this fucking plague."

"You don't have a fucking boner because you were a brat in grade school you backwater nutjob."

Unlike Gary, Christophe had absolutely no problems forcing his beliefs or views onto others, especially when theirs were basically something taken right out of a messed up Walt Disney reject.

* * *

Gary stared at him, this time true sadness aching all over his face.  
"I wish you could understand." He said quietly.  
Maybe Satan was whispering words into Nameless' ear and telling him to say these things, just to tempt him into sin.  
Gary was determined to not be tempted.  
"…But I'm not relying on God to help me. This is one of those times when he wants me to help myself, and to do that, I have to apologize." He explained, before beginning to ramble on his own.  
"Really, I've tried to apologize to anyone I've ever knowingly hurt. But there's still one more person and I just don't know where he is."  
Gary sat up, placing his head in his hands. "Maybe being homosexual is okay. But to actually act on it is not. Acting on it, as in… Doing the things you're supposed to only do after you get married, like kissing, and making love."  
He shuddered.  
"And homosexuals can't get married. That's against God's will. Which means that they're not allowed to act on it. You can love someone, sure. But they have to be your best friend and that's it, and you'd probably have to get married to a nice woman and make a family anyway. I mean, who doesn't want a family of their own? I can't do that if I'm… You know."  
Another shiver.  
"It's wrong." He concluded, reiterating his last point from before.  
He bit his lip and laid back down, before he smiled again.  
"…But I'm not like that, so um. It's okay. It's just temporary until I say sorry to Stan."


	5. Chapter 5

**On The Move in The Rockies: Part Five**

* * *

"I fucking understand." He hissed -

"They can, your religion dictates that they can not." Christophe snarled, turning on the edge of the bed so that he could eye the now content boy laying on his back. "You are not required to fuck a bitch and have her spit out your demon offspring - even so, that should not be your priority anymore, bringing a child into this world is the most irresponsible thing you could do."

A tangent for a tangent. Despite not knowing why he was so worked up. [Other than the sheer stupidity of this argument.]

"No one waits until after they get married to fucking kiss anymore - you are living in the year the Bible was written, a year where it is okay to beat your mother to death for wearing two different fabrics, hang your father in the gallows for cutting his beard, and stone a child for witchcraft ."

The last one being purposefully out there as his temper grew, stumbling on just how Gary could be so 'free spirited' yet believe the things he did. The way he spoke so matter of factly about his 'sinful urges' being taken away over a mere apology. It was laughable.

And yet this boy kept talking, staring blissfully at the ceiling, speaking of redemption at the same time he so willingly damned others for things beyond their control. It was infuriating - it struck a chord.

He realized why.

Losing the reigns he was already barely gripping on his anger, Christophes body snapped forward [facing Gary's] taking the boys chin forcefully in his hand so he could lean down and roughly press his own chapped lips to Gary's despite any protest. Holding it for good measure.

He would have thrown the boy back if he weren't already grounded on the mattress, but did the best he could, shoving him down with a harsh push by the throat.

"My best friend was gay you disgusting prick."

The irritant that had been building behind his rib-cage had finally bubbled forward, spilling out as anger and malice in his words, and haste in his actions as he quickly got to his feet, snatching the radio before heading for the door.

"And you can fucking adopt."

One last sentiment before slipping into the hallway and slamming the portal behind him.

Thankful for the barrier that now stood between them.

* * *

Gary stared at him silently. Why was it that Nameless believed such awful things? He didn't want to make anyone sad, but he also wanted to follow his religion, and sometimes the two overlapped in a painful way.

He continued to watch his friend rant out his temper, almost emotionless save for a spark of sadness that still held him captive from his most recent tangent.

And then-

It was so unexpected that for a moment Gary didn't even know what was happening; his vision darkened for a sliver of a second, as though he'd been plunged beneath water, before he was brought back to the surface and felt warmth against his lips.

He gasped, rather loudly, shoulders scrunching up and heart quickening so much that he heard it pounding against his ears. A hand clenched over his throat blocked his airway, breath choking and skin boiling. With how fast the blood rushed to his face, he almost thought he was going to die, and then, the chapped lips that were so surprisingly forced to his left.

Gary merely gaped, expression no less than shocked, only blearily managing to comprehend what his first kiss had said before the door was slammed shut, wall shaking from force.

His first kiss.

That was a sin in itself, but even more so that it had been done with another person of the same sex.

He stared into space for a moment, before a trembling hand slowly inched towards his bruising lips. Just centimeters before they made contact with the skin, however, his hands shot forward, clasping each other as he fell forward into a hunch and began to pray wildly.

"Father up in Heaven, I thank you for everything you have done for me, and the only thing I want to ask right now is that you forgive me for sinning. I'm so terribly sorry, my Lord, I'm so sorry, I'm just… I didn't meant to. I'm so sorry."

Water tickled his eyelashes, daring to drip past, and he blinked them away, eyes shimmering with dampness.

_Please don't leave me, God._

His entire body convulsed, twitching for a second, as he felt the urge to vomit at the thought of no longer having God. He already lost his family, he refused to lose the one thing he had faith in.

After three more prayers, all congruent in phrasing, he came to a stand, figure tall and hunched in the darkness. He'd upset Nameless, and he had to make that right, or else the urges would only fester into something worse.

He opened the door with utmost gentility and peered out.

"…Hey." He called into the darkness, quiet so as not to alert any walkers that may have been nearby their cabin.

* * *

It would have been hopeful at best if he'd attempted to leave the anger on the second floor of this dingy cabin, instead however it began trailing him all over the ground floor as he paced. Collecting not only his things, but whatever he found useful -

If it wasn't enough to be angry at Gary for practically damning the only man who had ever meant anything to him, the little cock had left the fucking light on - something he had practically leaped from the steps to correct. It had been shining for hell knows how long, leaking out of the windows like a fucking beacon in the dark to call whatever was out there towards them.

On top of everything else, while he paced, he hastily - frantically - fidgeted with the baggy holding his cigarettes. A moment of panic when he could not find the lighter before remembering it was in his pocket. Stopping for a moment, only to light the rumpled stick, his boot squashed the first he'd indulged in. How it had migrated over to the kitchen area, entirely beyond his care.

He was almost disgusted in himself, wiping at his mouth after the first, long drag. While Gary was concerned for the sin that touched his lips, Christophe was angered by the tainted 'morale' that had graced his.

"No." He harshed back immediately after hearing the boys meek call - making his way quickly from the kitchen, around the counter, and to the sofa where his pack lay. Shoving the Gatorade bottles back in its mouth and all that had been on top along with it rather than refasten everything.

The wood creaked as he moved, protesting almost as much as he had been upstairs under the bombardment of slander. Though they both partook in it.

He wished that this hadn't gotten to him. Better judgement still present, he knew it did not matter - but could not shake just how angry he was. Not only that Gary condemned his own sexuality, but that he wrote what was happening, this virus, off as an act of Satan. And maybe it was, but it was more so that he still held fast to a faith that made him run from the problem to wait for an answer that would never come that bothered Christophe, who was a man of action.

After he had collected all of his things, he began to work at [cautiously] tugging the writing desk away from the window, at first to peer out, assess. And then so he could get at the book shelf.

They'd both gotten what they needed - there was no reason to stay.

* * *

Gary walked down the stairs, blankly staring at Nameless move things.

"Listen," he muttered, ignoring the response he'd first received. "I'm sorry for saying the things I did. I know it's not easy, but I just… I can't believe in anything else."

His lips pursed when he saw the other boy attempt to leave, and though the last thing he wanted was to lose his only friend at the moment, he found himself incapable of moving from the bottom of the stairwell.

"I don't think you should go," he added, so soft it could have been not heard it all had the other boy not been listening. "It's always better to move when it's lighter outside."

This time, Gary reluctantly lifted his fingers and did brush them against his lips, eyes drawn to the floor.

He didn't think that Nameless should have kissed him.

God probably wasn't very happy about it.

His eyes drooped, and he was about to step forward, but retracted his foot, before taking a deep breath as his lips slowly drew into a smile.

"You're a good person… I appreciate that you want what's best for a lot of people." He mentally added that he was sorry it couldn't be that way, that it didn't matter because those people were only like that for the wrong reasons.

He was like that for the wrong reasons.

And, although he didn't say it, he began to wonder if God let Nameless' best friend die because he'd given into sin.

Gary twitched.

* * *

In the beginning of Gary's half hearted apology, Christophe kept to himself, attempting to relieve the door of its blockade as quietly as possible so not to draw any unwanted attention that the light already hadn't.

Whatever was said now, he let drop to the aching floor, crushing Gary's words under his boot until one of their regular boughs of silence came creeping up. Leaving only the crackle of the burning paper in his mouth and the shuffling against the wood to fill the stagnate cabin air.

Part of the way through, he threw his arms down, piveting quickly to stare back at Gary with an unforgiving furrow lining his brow. "You choosing to be unhappy with your sexuality because some fucking bearded cunt in the sky says you don't get to forge your own life is fucking fantastic."

Sarcasm heavy, he shook his head in an exaggerated manner. "Just because you think you, and your underdeveloped ideologies are going to hell for liking men, or think it can be wished away with an apology - does not mean you get to pass judgement on an entire sexuality. Especially your own."

It was present in the bible, in history, in nature.

But he was passed wanting to fuss over this argument.

"I am not a good person." He snarled, whipping around to finish what he had set out to do. "I don't care what the fuck the rest of the human race believes, or even sticks their dick in much less the reasons why. It's your sheer stupidity that churns my insides."

"There's much worse you could go to hell for- and you think God is paying attention to your homosexual urges."

Pausing to look back at him questioningly, he dropped the dying cigarette from his lips to the floor, crushing it under his boots and singing the floor.

"He hasn't been listening this whole time. He did not save my mother. He did not save your family, he is letting the whole human race burn. He doesn't care that I fucking kissed you."

* * *

Gary stared at him, bordering on exasperation, before he took another deep breath and exhaled with purpose. While he, when the earth was more populated by normalcy, dealt with disagreement and frustration with his peers on a regular basis, rarely did it involve life or death, or losing the only person you had to talk to.

Or sexuality.

"Maybe he doesn't care, because I didn't want to." Even if it wasn't a bad kiss. It was wrong.

He gathered the strength walked forward this time, slowly, as though his feet were heavier than they were on a regular basis, to put a hand on his friend's shoulder. His limb felt numb and tingly, as though it had fallen asleep.

"…God doesn't want us to hurt." He doesn't want us to. He doesn't, but it just happens.

His smile widened, forced unlike so many times before. "Maybe I just see it differently than you, because I think that you are a good person. Even if not in the most normal way."

A sigh erupted from his mouth. "I still don't think you should go, because it's more dangerous right now, but if you really want to, it's okay. I'm not stopping you."

He took a step back reluctantly, eyes only slightly wider than they normally were as he gazed at his unnamed companion, hoping to convey that he'd enjoyed their friendship and didn't want it to end.

…Or evolve.

That, Gary felt, was sin, no matter what Nameless claimed. Clearly, his buddy had clouded judgement and had misinterpreted what was right and wrong from the past. More than anything, Gary wished for it not to rub off on him, and that he wouldn't be tempted to do anything more… Sinful.

* * *

A small laugh began bubbling from his throat, soft and patronizing, coupled with an incredulous shake of the head. "You know you -" he attempted to speak through the small chuckle, shoving the book case as hard as he could, teetering it so that it rocked before settling with a thud. "You just keep saying the _wrong fucking things!_"

There was no mask this time, though it was he who was working himself up, Gary was sure doing a hell of a job at providing aid. "Don't you ever tell me he doesn't want us hurt - he could do something about it if he didn't!" Volume control failing him, he made wide gestures, frustrated.

It wasn't expected of Gary to know the life he had before all of this washed out reality, replacing it with a lucid nightmare - While Gary had his beliefs, and reasons to believe them, Christophe lacked any at all, and found more on the list of why not to trust in an almighty being as time wore on.

"She went to church!-" He shrieked, taking on a threatening front. "She read the bible, she prayed. She did everything you did!"

"She believed, and trusted! She wasn't the greatest person, or the best mother, but she was my mother." Near the end of the sentence he had become breathless from anger. It was his turn to feel the tears bead on his eyelashes, rocking back on his heel. Hands raking through his hair.

"I woke up-" By now it was appearant that Christophe had little control over his anger, jealous only of Gary's level headedness as he gasped between fragments of what he was attempting to confess.

"I woke up - to her clawing at my bedroom door. Screaming and groaning. I thought she was sick! I thought that the bite she had gotten at work had become infected, and that she needed to be taken to the hospital! So I opened the door and she tried to eat me."

Whipping around he heaved his pack to the ground, as if he hadn't been making enough noise - he didn't know how else to ease the pressure in his throat, or the feeling of being strangled.

"She tried to fucking eat me!" This time at the top of his lungs, choking on his own words. "She chased me through the house! I had to beat her to death with a fucking shovel!"

Stopping in his tirade he let his arms fall back from his head, hands held as if asking for communion while he stared the few inches back up at Gary through tears that had at some point washed over his face.

And he ask breathlessly;

"Tell. Me. Why would God let that happen? What was the plan there?"

* * *

Gary stared at him, mouth parted in disbelief, eyebrows scrunched. He almost began to cry himself.

He continued to watch, silent as he had been throughout as his only friend in the whole world at that moment began to break… After having known him only for a few days.

Gary's heart ached.

"I'm sorry," he gasped out. The idea of something so… Frightening was something he couldn't wrap his head around, and for that matter, didn't want to. "I'm so sorry."

He leaned forward to embrace Nameless, lips trembling. "It always hurts in the beginning."

He sighed as he pulled him closer, sadness radiating from his system, and he repeated himself. "I'm sorry."

If it hadn't been enough for Gary to see the signs, he knew the reasoning now. Maybe it didn't venture far back into the roots of his friend's past, but it certainly shed light on an aspect that perhaps exemplified how ignorance truly was bliss. Gary's figure shook.

"…I don't know why things are the way that they are most of the time," he confessed. "I just accept it. I wish I understood, but I can't." Gary bit his lip and stared down at the top of his friend's head, wondering if he was still saying the wrong things.

Probably.

"Sometimes, everything is just wrong, and that's why I have to believe." He continued, probably enveloping the other body so much so that Nameless couldn't escape unless he really tried.

A clump of blonde hair, sullied with dirt and blood and sweat, distorted his vision, and he shut his eyes while the familiar words of prayer ran through his mind, willing God to help this poor lost soul that he hugged close. He knew that Nameless had sinned, probably more so than Gary could have even counted, but God was all-forgiving. All it took was a little bit of understanding on his part, too. Gary's rhythm of breathing was punctured with a soft choking sound as his feet twitched together, world darkening at the thought of how God could have double standards from time to time.

He willed with all his heart for God to love this man, for God to save him. His eyelids pressed together tightly, and he hoped that when he opened them, things would be different.

* * *

Entirely unplanned as it was, the way his own body kept shivering would not stop, no matter how hard he willed it. Panic fueled by anger coupled with a hurt he refused to speak - and so his physical being attempted to compensate in anyway that would allow him to stop this fucking nonsense. To stop crying like a child lost in the grocery store.

Which is essentially what he had become lately. His mother locked where he'd left her, and the only other person he'd relied on separated - Christophe did not plan on pulling for anymore emotional relationships. They were unnecessary and tedious to sever.

The impossible tent of arms was back, some how draping around his entire shoulder and head area, allowing the smaller male to be tucked into Gary as if he were a human cocoon.

"That is why I can't." Came the upset, muffled voice of Christophe. Distorted by the fabric of Gary's collar where he had been pressed. Arms forced to curl against his body in the same way they had been when the both had earlier woken up.

The exact same reasons Gary pushed to believe, where the reasons Christophe pushed the notion of a God away. They did not make sense - going against everything ever taught that God was.

Merciful and forgiving where both terrible lies told to cover up what a sadistic cock Christophe was so sure he was - and much like Gary's views on the subject would not be shaken - nor would his.

God's help was not wanted, not expected, and even if given - suddenly offered after making Christophe walk barefoot through Hell, it were to be harshly rejected.

There were so many more questions he could ask; Why, after his mother had to be put down, was his only friend ripped away by a hoard? Why had the young child he'd met not quieted down? He had tried to help then, but she was drawing them in, no matter how many times he hushed. So in a run down Hospital, behind the nurses station where no one else would ever know - he put her down as well. Rather than risk both of them be torn apart by staff and client.

At least hers was quick.

But he'd keep them to himself, too drained from his outburst to throw another tantrum.

"Sorry isn't going to fucking fix anything."

Neither would talking to the sky.

There was again, the knowledge, and need to shove away from this infuriating pest. Childishly, he ignored it, wondering what the point would be in leaving the closest thing to a safe haven he'd had in months.

"Don't ever wear Stilettos Sunshine, you'll frighten your date." He jabbed, slightly irritated by how perfectly their height allowed both men to fit together.

* * *

Gary took to momentarily petting the top of his friend's head, as he'd so done to his little sister when she'd been upset. It was, however, never to this extreme.

In seconds that passed, he could find nothing to say.

Perhaps it was still the shock he was recovering from at finding out what had happened to his friend's mother. Even so, what was on his mind was the nickname that so frequented his friend's mouth.

Sunshine.

"I guess not, but I don't think I can say anything else." He laughed, no where near happy enough to conjure up a pleasant sound.

He hummed quietly at first in response to the off-handed comment, before he found his voice again. "I don't date." He then chortled once more, this time a bit more cheerful at the joke presented to him. "…And I would never wear women's shoes."

It was the truth. He was just finally old enough to seek romance, but didn't want to. He almost feared the prospect; what if he dated women, and he didn't enjoy it?

"…But maybe you should wear something to get a little taller." He mentioned, smile beginning to return as he scruffed up the brown patch of hair beneath him even more so than it already was. "What if you meet a nice woman and she's so tall that you can't kiss her?"

He shook his head. The very idea of Nameless attempting to be chivalrous to any girl was farcical and by no means believable. Maybe if he altered his personality. Completely.

He almost felt like letting go, that this hug was drawing on too long, and that - all of Nameless's insults to his Father aside - God would be unhappy with it. Yet, somehow, he couldn't bring himself to, still fearing that if he let go, the tiny Frenchman below him would bolt out the door, leaving him completely alone in a world of cannibals.

So instead of releasing him, he continued to hold him, one large hand going up to pat his hair again before continuing to embrace him. His hair was in dire need of being washed, but then again, so was Gary's. At the same time, he couldn't help but feel fascinated with the twists of brown beneath his chin.

It looked almost like Nameless took time out of his day to make it messy.

Gary chuckled lowly at the thought of him actually going to a mirror and purposefully mussing it up, merely to add to his intimidating aura.

* * *

With the length of this awkward embrace being drawn out as it was, Christophe tried to remember the last time he had encountered anything or anyone that had radiated heat as Gary did. The State of Colorado was almost always cold, chilled at best, even if the sun was out.

At least that's how it seemed, or maybe he'd distanced himself so much from humanity [what was left of it] that it began affecting his physical being.

The feigned laughter slowly brought him from his daze, head aching from the sudden burst of tears that had left him more dehydrated than he'd already been. Perhaps he should drink the water he stored away, that is what it was for after all.

Feeling Gary's fingers through his hair was certainly odd, not something he'd ever want to become accustomed to - each time through brown tufts stuck up in different directions. Refusing to settle in one place.

While he had half a mind to continue on, get the living Hell out of here and back into the wasteland this Fungus had forged for itself to thrive, he settled for suddenly fussing. Pushing at Gary's chest with little snarls and French curse words - wanting to break whatever this ridiculous embrace had become.

Uncomfortable - that's what it had become.

He tore away, shoving his partner back for good measure before combing through his own dirty hair to rid his scalp of that tingling.

"I am." He hissed, referring to the boots he wore which were making him a good inch and a half taller than what he would normally stand at.

"Luckily for me, I have never had much interest in Women."

Not a confession to any sort of sexuality - more so, he spat it as if he had a problem with any woman in question also being a person.

It was people Christophe did not like.

* * *

Gary's hands fell to his sides as dead weight, smile still well in place as he shrugged.

"Maybe you need taller ones." He commented as his eyes fell to the boots, noting that they didn't do much, seeing as Gary still had several inches on him.

He'd outgrown his classmates, though, so perhaps he was the one who needed some sort of height change. Not that he could see how that would really work. He tried not to dwell on the mechanics of becoming shorter.

"I didn't think you would." He laughed, growing uncomfortable in the middle as he realized how he could be misinterpreted. "…Because you don't seem like you'd be interested in romance, I mean."

Rubbing the back of his head with a crooked smile, Gary's lanky arm then returned to his side and he laughed again. It was becoming apparent that he didn't know how - or for that matter want - to continue the conversation, being that it was on a subject he generally pushed far from his mind.

He blanked, however, on how to start anything anew, and settled for being silent as he struggled to come up with something. Rarely was it ever that Gary lost ideas for topics, but this was a person that he felt was so… Easy to upset, and he didn't want to make Nameless try to leave again.

Gary blew a few stringy strands of blond hair away from his face, frowning at the grease that had gathered from a lack of shower. In his discomfort, he blurted out his exact thoughts.

"…It's too bad we can't shower anymore."

He then found his grin once more, teeth showing in what was intended to be friendly.

"I don't think I ever would have thought I'd get this dirty… But I guess it could always be worse."


	6. Chapter 6

**On The Move in The Rockies: Part Six**

* * *

Scouting the condition of his pack, Christophe let out a small chuckle of his own, though it was more of some sort of hybrid scoff - turning only his eyes to Gary as the boy shuffle awkwardly over his own words along with the implication of Christophe's.

"And I am sure you know all about romance from your one on one with God?" The part of him that enjoyed watching his adversaries squirm egged Christophe to mention he had lost his virginity to a man - the same friend he had mentioned earlier - and quite some time ago at that.

Though Gary was correct in his assumptions, there very little about the situation that had been any sort of romantic. Just two men frantic and desperate to relay pent up emotion along with sexual frustration that had been building since they were fairly young.

On the subject of filth, his brow line raised, turning from edging the stationary desk away from the door. It had already been half completed. Why not finish? There was still some time before the sun came up so he figured to keep it locked, instead tipping it on its side to blockade the other window. It was only busy work.

"You are safer filthier than clean. Earth does not have a smell, it masks -" Something he'd learned to quickly utilize before his day job had been cut short. While it was impossible to hide your scent from attack dogs, it was fairly easy to throw them off.

"I'm sure if you're so fucking uppity about getting clean we could find some shampoo and a river."

"Its a camp out after all."

* * *

Gary guffawed. "I knew a girl once than liked God a little bit differently than I do… But she ended up losing her faith." He shrugged, shaking his head and wondering if that woman had ever had any to begin with.

He seated himself on the same chair he'd sat on earlier as he stared at the back of his friend's head.

"I don't really mind it that much. Besides, if I shower, I'll just get dirty again anyway." He released a breath, almost bordering on pleased sounding, smile plastered to his face.

"A camp out," he repeated.

He'd used to go camping with his family, prior to the entire mess having begun, and they'd catch fire flies and roast marshmallows and sing campfire songs. Part of him felt inclined to share this, but after hearing about Nameless' last encounter with his own mother, he kept his mouth shut, eyes instead wandering over the other man's frame.

Gary reasoned he had every right to be angry with him. Nameless had taken his first kiss, after Gary had expressed that he was not to give into homosexual desires, and yet his friend had done it anyway, completely aware of the fact that Gary had been unwilling. Yet he couldn't bring himself to feel the least bit peeved.

He whistled lowly and figured it pertained to the fact that he'd spent the last couple minutes comforting this man. Or, at the very least, trying to; he wasn't sure if he'd truly aided in consoling him, but he most certainly hoped he was at least partially responsible.

And yet he couldn't shake the thought, lips tingling at the memory of how it felt. They tightened into a thin line, no longer a smile, or for that matter, a frown. "…Why did you kiss me?"

* * *

"Smart girl." And smart to hold his tongue about family affairs. If you could consider the two De'Lorne's much of a family at all - they were mother and son, but there was little outside of obligatory interaction. That still [obviously] did nothing to sever the underlying tie, as his latest fit had shown.

"That is what I always reasoned." In response to the grime covering both bodies respectively, he moved back from his fidgeting with the door and case to look down at his own person, taking in just how much had built up on his clothing. Was this an accomplishment, or should he scavenge for some better fitting pants later in the week.

Of course Gary had means to be angry, even snap - Christophe had spent near their entire reunion belittling the boy for his beliefs, ideals, habits etc. Nothing short of out right discrimination. Though the question caught his attention, and he looked up from picking at the large splotch of dried blood on the hem of his shirt. Questioningly. Brows raise and mouth only slightly parted - expecting Gary to have figured out the answer.

After a moment of staring, he still received no clarifying 'oh' and tilt his head up, same look still present.

"I wanted to make you sin." He spat, almost casually, as if it should have been obvious.

* * *

Gary's eyes rolled to the side of his head while he considered this, arms locked and settled in his lap to betray his regularly casual position as he leaned slightly to the side.

"…But you didn't," he explained slowly. "I didn't want to kiss you. It just… Happened."

Gary refused to admit that he may have potentially even enjoyed it, but thought harder on this, pondering the possibility of it still being considered something sinful on his behalf if he hadn't abhorred it entirely.

Which, of course, he hadn't.

Kisses had always been described to him as this delicate, gentle expression of love and romance that were meant to be a connection between two persons on their wedding day. You were meant to be careful and sweet and considerate of your partners emotions. A kiss was to show that you loved someone. This was the opposite.

Thin line no longer dominating his lips and instead transitioning into Gary chewing on the bottom one, almost attempting to erase the still lingering cigarette taste.

It was almost alienating.

"You're not really like most people." He declared quietly, hazel irises finally making their way back to Nameless' face.

* * *

An irritated sigh on his behalf, Christophe hoisted his pack back off the floor as this ridiculous conversation was brought up again. "If Homosexuality is such a sin, do you think God will care for the technicalities?" A genuine question, he was honestly curious about the circles Mormons, and any other religious person for that matter - lead themselves around in.

All of these things were something ripped from an idealists novel; Love, romance, tenderness.

Each one of his firsts were nothing of the sort. They had been done in haste with harsh holds and forced kisses. Rough in every sense of the word. But that did not mean the same emotion was not there - at least he reasoned. Thought. He had never fully sorted out his feelings for the man in question, the friend he'd lost. He just knew they were close in various ways, some more intimate than others, and he accepted that without fussing with labels.

"No - but I do not think that is what you are looking at here."

Making his way over to the couch, he sat down, or rather dropped - eyeing the door after dropping his pack on the floor infront of himself.

"I am not like what your family taught you to expect. And in that, you are correct."

A soft, almost menacing chuckle sounded from the back of his throat.

"If you are Gods child -" Stopping to look up at the other with a wicked grin, hands toying with the zippers his fingers could reach.

"I am sin incarnate."

* * *

Gary didn't answer.

He didn't want to.

He smiled silently as his shoulders began to tremble, before they steadied.

"Yeah, I guess that's right. But I've run into a lot of people who aren't what my parents… Pictured my peers as." An image of a particularly plump boy that was constantly adorned in a red jacket popped into his head. "That doesn't mean you aren't special."

He paused to lick his lips, almost taken back by the fact that the tinge of ash still remained. "…And if you were that bad, I don't really know if we'd have ever met." His lips curved upwards.

Unless, of course, Nameless was actually a person forced into his path by the devil to lead him astray from God, but then, Gary thought that Lucifer's time was more consumed by wreaking havoc on the entire world.

He then shrugged. "You don't seem like a really bad person. Maybe you did only just… Kiss me for bad reasons, and you've still done other things that aren't good, but that doesn't make you bad."

His eyes flickered over to where Nameless' hand was playing with the zippers, watching the fingers, before moving back to his face.

Somehow, only then was he mildly saddened that his first kiss hadn't been all he'd hoped it would be, and yet, even then he couldn't bring himself to be upset. What's done is done.

* * *

The slight tremble was noticed, amusing the brunette greatly that he could shake this boy with one little sentence that to him meant absolutely nothing. The wide grin fell to a soft open mouthed smirk, still eyeing the taller blond at his side.

"Your parents taught you to fear the wrong man." He drawled, unzipping the front pocket for the sole purpose of shoving his hand inside. Idly. Not really looking for anything before retracting it so that he may recline on the couch.

"How would you have any fucking idea?" He asked, sarcastically innocent in his tone. Hopeful, having first been used to describe the boy, seemed to hold steadfast as a worthy referral. Naive coming in close second.

"You don't know me. My past, what I have done, and what I will do or for what reasons? You have no idea. I could have been a murder long before all of this." In fact…

Sadly, for Gary, his first kiss would never have been pleasant - day 1 six months ago had assured that - or so Christophe strongly believed. He should thank his dear Heavenly father that a sort-of rough kiss was all he had endured.

Other wanderers were not so friendly when faced with someone they may be able to take advantage of - though his height ensured a good defense mechanism as was.

Should he become aware of the brief tangent concerning him being a vessel for Satan's dirty work, the smile would have erupted into the grandest, wholly patronising laugh a single soul could muster. It would only show that Gary took what he'd said far too literally.

Even if he himself believed it to some extent, Christophe knew that he belonged to no one, not God, not Satan. Only himself.

"I kissed you because I wanted to, to prove a point. Not only were the reasons tainted as you say, but me, the person as well. Believe me, God would be proud that is all I have done compared to what I used to call a Day job. And you should be thankful I did not crush that pretty neck of yours."

"Sure didn't put up much of a struggle though, did you Sunshine?"

* * *

Gary shuddered once more.

"You're right." He agreed. "I don't know, but that doesn't change the fact that mistakes don't make up a person." He rubbed at the smeared blood adorning his visage. "I guess it's mostly just how you deal with them."

Like apologizing to someone for telling them to suck your balls.

Gary almost groaned as this thought leaped back into his head, nose wrinkling for a fraction of a second as he was reminded of how one little mess up was still showing it's effects to this day. He didn't want to be homosexual.

He didn't want to enjoy Nameless' kiss.

Even if he did, it would have done nothing to alter his family's view on homosexuality, and he would have had to remain 'closeted' - as his friend had so eloquently put it - for the rest of his life, which was a much crueler fate than merely apologizing for being mean and going back to normal… Whatever that entailed.

He'd never felt an interest towards women, either, so naturally, it scared him even more so when he felt himself leaning towards the same sex. Perhaps God had it all planned from the beginning.

Maybe he should have done more to prevent it himself? Or had it been inevitable? Gary's head spun, and he then thought that he could have at least expressed that he didn't like Nameless' kiss while it was happening. Even if maybe he didn't not like it.

As though his mind had been read, Gary felt himself blanch, before the color returned to his face tenfold. His laugh raised an octave before cutting off abruptly.

"I just wasn't expecting it. You seemed angry, so the last thing I'd thought you'd do was… That."

* * *

Regardless of 'wanting to be' or not, Christophe still believed that this poor sucker was in for a hell of a rude awakening when the time came he could apologise, only to find that his mouth still tingled whenever he thought back to his first kiss. Further more, what had he planned to do in the event Stan Marsh was no longer alive.

Was this 'Curse' a yoyo? Would he 'become' homosexual every time he wronged someone and go back to being heterosexual once apologising?

Plot holes littered Gary's reasoning, and while he would just adore bringing them up, considering where they were - what surrounded them. Sexuality was not their main concern. It was getting out of this Cabin and heading for the Suburbs come dawn.

Still - idle conversation was hurting no one, other than feeding into the headache that had erupted months back and refused to leave him be.

"I am not my mistakes. A person is a reflection of the choices they make - and I have chosen a path of sin. I have, and will, willingly passers by if they are uncooperative. My home life wasn't exactly recreational, and I've made some bad choices, but they were all mine. My choices. My life."

The red that spread through Gary's cheeks was easily noticeable, this kid was in no way discreet - though supposing Christophe was not where he did not need to be, that didn't really matter.

"One's predictable reaction would be to become angry - and yet you sit here talking with me as if we have been friends since childhood. Reasoning away my actions and blushing like a highschool virgin - though I am assuming that is what you are. "

A soft laugh.

"Were." Considering the lack of established highschools lately.

* * *

Were it that Gary were to sin again, he believed another punishment would eventually catch up to him, or even more sinful desires involving homosexuality. He hoped such a thing would never happen.

Gary rose a brow. He hardly felt compelled to debate this any further. Nameless' point seemed as though it lacked logic, but perhaps that was Gary's warped sense of belief, and he shrugged it all away. "If you say so, buddy."

He then laughed, only a tinge of awkwardness tainting the cheerful sound this time. "…I can't do things like that before marriage."

Gary hardly believed in intimacy before it was officially approved of by the church. Holding hands and hugging seemed okay by him, but anything venturing too far into the topic of fornication was something he didn't condone. Even kissing, in his mind, was against the rules until the actual day of the wedding itself.

He pursed his lips together, almost trying to make himself forget that he had broken a rule, even if not by his own will. Gary's eyes fell to the floor.

"It feels pretty weird, not having been in school for so long." He commented, just to say something, anything at all.

Why was he losing things to talk about around Nameless? Normally he was so… Sociable. In fact, the sheer amount of friendliness he had was often what scared people away from him, resulting in him only having a few people that wanted to speak to him at school. South Park sure was strange in that aspect; no one liked you if you were nice. It was so backwards.

He then looked up. "Were you still in school?" The question hung in the air, as though he hadn't finished, even though he had, and Gary swallowed awkwardly.

Why, why, why was he so uncomfortable? He couldn't imagine why, and it allowed uncharacteristic frustration to bubble in his chest.

* * *

What a compliant little shit. To the point of irritation, though he supposed it would help should they ever have to traverse long distances together. Christophe would point at tell the boy to 'stay' he may just cling to his side like a puppy. Maybe not exactly a puppy but an animal equally as loyal.

Clearly both were not moving from their stance- each thinking he knew some other worldly wisdom that his counter part did not. It would remain a tug of war here on out. Gary attempting to enlighten Christophe, while Christophe attempted to bring Gary down to Earth.

A pointless battle.

School was not a thought he'd given much notice in quite some time - it had never been a priority of his. Having skipped first and second, and been home schooled third through fifth. His attendance in middle school was terrible and non existent by the time he'd reached High school, having found more important things with which to occupy his time.

"I did not see the point-" There was to be a greater explanation, some tangent he had prepared, before the previously forgotten black brick on the kitchen counter demanded his attention.

It was certainly a sight, his expression changing from mildly annoyed to wide eyed and frantic in a matter of a few words. Sending him vaulting over the back of the couch to reach it as quickly as possible.

The sudden cracking and whirring to life hadn't startled him half as much as the gargled voice that struggled to seep through the radio. Initially it was just another person, but as the person in question began to fade in and out - the voice hurt. It hit his eardrums at sharp angles and caused his body to jerk upright on the couch he had been reclining against - disregarding his company in favor of barreling over the backside and into the kitchen where he'd left the chattering device.

He had practically lunged for it -

_  
_'Allo? __Ami, tu êtes là?_

_Is the person calling still on the air? _

Letting go of the button, he listened to the static screech for as long as he could stand, scared that if he had pressed it to speak again, he might miss any attempted contact.

_I heard you. Your broad cast was received -_

_We are in the Rockies, I do not have coordinates as of yet, but we are not that far out -_

_Please respond if you can hear me-_

_Answer you fucking prick, I know you're there! I **heard **you._

White knuckling the radio, he began to flip through the channels. Desperate for that voice.

Though it wasn't the voice that had shaken him, it was the name that had come along with it.

By the time he was able to respond, shouting into the speaker with an [almost hopeful] aggravated and raised voice.

His desperation to hail the other person did nothing and he cussed "Mother fucking, titty sucking, two balled bitch!" A line he was sure had been used in a movie some time - as he threw another fit, slamming the radio back down onto the granite counter before whirling around to kick a dent into the pantry door behind him.

Perhaps Gary was so uncomfortable because of his volatile nature. The ability to remain perpetually enraged underneath a calm exterior. A feigned front that could be pointed out by even the smallest of children as a rouse.

"Get your shit!" He shouted, never minding that it was still dark and thinking irrationally once more.

* * *

Gary was well prepared for yet another rant of Nameless', even leaning back in his chair and relaxing so as to focus on the words. It was cut short, however, as a distorted voice pulled itself from the speakers of one of their radios, automatically taking his friend's attention.

The outburst from the other man had Gary standing up and following, footsteps dragging at a much slower pace yet nearly bouncing on his heels in curiosity. Had Nameless known this person? Why had he been so extreme about his response?

It became instantly clear that this person on the other side of the radio had a connection with his newest companion, Gary's mouth stretched into a soft circle at the emotions that ran through Nameless. A new friend to join them, perhaps? Gary almost smiled at the thought of more company, until Nameless released something nasty from his mouth.

Gary's face turned red at the newest swear combination.

Even Eric Cartman hadn't a mouth like that on him… And Eric was infamous for being very inventive with his curses.

Yet his dwelling over this was yanked away as suddenly he was commanded to pack up camp.

"My-?" he began, startled so much that even as he began to question the order, he was already fulfilling it, pushing his scattered items into the brown bag.

As he stood, hazel eyes widened and lips pulled to the side, he gave his partner a look that probably showed all his thoughts. Still, he voiced them.

"We're going? Where?" Gary inquired, stricken with shock at the sudden urge for departure. "…It's still dark." He pointed out in continuation, nodding to the window.

As he spoke, his hand fumbled around inside of his bag to make sure his book was still securely inside, although he'd never taken it out. Fingers brushing the soft leather binding, a sweet sigh oozed from his system and he turned to face Nameless, awaiting his answer.

* * *

Yes, Christophe had an extensive vocabulary spanning not only one, but two languages - creating unlimited possibility for insults and exclamations. He was aware of that. He was not, however [and never would be] that when in a fuss, frightened, hurried - his English overlapped the native French vocabulary sloshing around inside his skull. While he usually was speaking only to himself in such a mood, it did confuse others as well as make them rather uncomfortable.

"I know it's dark!" He hissed, clamoring for the radio to hook onto his belt before trudging with heavy steps back over to the couch, snatching his own effects - and the small lantern light that had been sitting quietly on the lamp table, watching them bicker the whole night through.

Not that it would be utilized - he was cursing himself out for not finding the space to keep the night vision goggles he had initially planned to take from his home back in South Park. Though he did not plan on returning.

"Pray your fucking eyes adjust, maybe that delightful personality of yours will shine from your fucking retinas and guide the way!" The jab came along with theatrics, Christophe nearly swaying while digging up all of the shit in his pack to find the knife he had shoved down into its main compartment, and the gun holster that he fumbled to attach to his belt.

The knifes sheath went around his thigh before he closed the Pack and slung it onto his back. "We're heading towards the Suburbs - we need supplies anyways."

With that he moved for the door, throwing the dead lock off and practically ripping it open, though once he stepped out onto the porch, he fell completely silent, cautious of the creeking wood, and fully prepared to leave Gary behind should he protest.

"All right, sure thing, but…" He trailed off, waning suspicion dripping from his tone.

He shook his head. Maybe he shouldn't have trusted Nameless, but he did anyway, because it was merely a part of who he was. Primarily, it was that he trusted God not to let him get hurt, and because of that, he felt safe trusting others. Even if this was a man who not only threatened him with a gun, but also a man who had taken his first kiss and denounced his religion.

Gary still followed him out the door without more than three or four second thoughts, instead glancing around the outside world. His footsteps became significantly softer, focusing less weight on them as he almost held his breath. As implied, his eyes did adjust, albeit slowly, and he almost chuckled at the comment directed at his personality. It may have been an insult, but he found it so ridiculous that he couldn't help seeing it as humorous.

He followed his friend carefully, before remembering something. He clutched onto Nameless' shoulder and pulled him in to whisper quietly; "…There's a little girl out here. She's hiding in a tree somewhere… She's probably on the way."

He pulled away and bit his lip hopefully. Gary would feel rather awful if he left little Karen behind; she probably wasn't entirely helpless, as she'd survived so far on her own, but that didn't mean she'd be in need of some assistance. In any case, having yet another companion would be great in Gary's mind. Hopefully one that didn't want to murder him, or kiss him just to make him sin.

* * *

**NOTE:**

**This wasn't included in the actual roleplay itself because it was happening outside of it, but at some point Karen McCormick contacted Gary via radio and mentioned her location to him. I apologize for not including it in the story itself, but I can't find anywhere to squeeze it in where it would make sense.**


	7. Chapter 7

**Note: At this point, a third roleplayer (his name is Comet) joins us.**

* * *

**On The Move in The Rockies: Part Seven**

* * *

_Lord God in Heaven, I thank you for everything you've done. You've made me feel safe, and you've given me a great life before Satan's army came to earth._

_…God, I want to talk to you about my feelings._

_I've been feeling very strange lately. I felt strange ever since I was nine, and I'm sure you remember the first time I spoke to you about it. But right now it's even worse, and I want to make sure you know that I would never betray your will. I love you, Father, and I will try my best to resist temptation, no matter how strong._

_Please, lord God, protect my family, and my friend, and Stan Marsh, and Karen Mccormick. I love you._

_In Jesus' name I pray, Amen._

* * *

Suspicion was not any sort of over reaction. The request to move [though brought up earlier] had come on again so suddenly that he himself was left wondering if he'd forgot anything, perhaps should have turned the place over a little better - but that wasn't a concern anymore.

He would however be a tad surprised that Gary was so quick to follow if blind faith did not practically make up the foundation of his religion. Being pulled back by one of Gary's [very] large hands as he was about to move forward caused a bit of a shuffle, earning the boy a bewildered glower after whipping around to throw the grip off.

"You want to fucking baby sit? Are you shitting me?" He asked in a harsh whisper, bouncing like an agitated water fowl as he spoke. The soles of his boots practically burning through the wooded porch with how he ached to move.

Christophe was not one for compassion, as had been witnessed several times - this child was no concern of his, though the name was certainly familiar. Perhaps one of his broadcasts had overlapped hers at some point. The look on Gary's face began to wear him down - how could one human be so concerned for the rest of them -

Oh…

Oh.

Resemblance had been on the taller males side, Christophe giving an agitated, hesitant breath of a sigh. "Fuck, fine!" Another low whisper.

"But we are not wandering in circles all night - we have to move!" With that he practically skipped off the porch, eyes dilating to take in his black washed surroundings so he could dart through the trees, hiding behind one every now and again, weary of anything that emitted any sort of sound.

* * *

Gary's lips parted into a toothy smile, utterly ecstatic as he practically bounced onto his heels, glancing around much like his friend was doing. His smile gradually faded into a thinned out line as he began to feel an eerie shadow of fear creep into his skin.

Gary realized what he was missing, and as his eyes flitted over the dark shadows of trees, he conjured up a prayer within his mind to help him feel more at ease.

_Lord God, thank you for everything you've done. You've done so much for me and I can't thank you enough, but right now, I ask that you please put your protection over my friend, Karen, and I… And of course, my family and Stan Marsh. Please, Father, aid us in finding Karen… Thank you so much, father. In Jesus' name I pray, amen._

"Do you think it's safe to contact her through the radio?"

By 'safe', of course, he intended to imply that it would be soft enough not to draw too much attention to themselves. After all, no one wanted a brush with the walkers, and he could only imagine how poorly that would transpire… What with Gary being unwilling to hurt them, Karen probably being too young to try to defend herself, and therefore leaving Nameless to be the only one willing to fend them off.

All in all, it would be a disaster.

Gary winced as he heard the distinct sound of a branch snapping from one of the trees above, looking up in hopes of it being the girl they'd been searching for along their way. His eyes met a distinctly small female, wearing a rather baggy sweatshirt, lengthy brown hair reflecting moonlight.

"Karen," he whispered, audible enough for her to no doubt hear.

* * *

The little girl looked down from her place in the tree. "Hello?" She called down, in her best whisper-yelling voice. She tried her hardest to not be loud and at a decent decibel level so that she wouldn't be heard. "Who are you?" She asked, a large smile planted on her face. So she was going to get caught. She wasn't going to be stuck alone anymore, or have to make friends off squirrels. _Thank god_, she thought, as she knew her food was running low and she didn't have the heart to kill her squirrel friends for food. "Are you here for me?" She added on, before deciding to make her way down the tree. "What took so fucking long?" She hissed, a little flare of temper rising in her. She knew technically language like that wasn't appropriate for a girl her age, but, it didn't matter. Her parents were most likely dead, as was one of her brothers, and the naughty language was just something she was used to hearing around her.

Karen still didn't move down from the tree, waiting until she knew that it was a good time for her to move.

* * *

While he hadn't answered Gary's inquiries as to if this child may or may not be okay, it hadn't seemed to matter. They hadn't gotten very far out, perhaps only fifteen minutes from the cabin, before forest audio began getting to him. The sound of twigs snapping above him sending him down into a defensive stance while looking up.

It seemed Gary would be handling communications - where as he himself would be on offense/defense, all things considered. "Fucking Barney." He hissed back when the little girl squeaked down asking who they were, if they were here for her. "What the fuck do you think you little shit - he knew your name!" More to himself than anyone else while he brought his gaze down to scan the immediate area, one hand on the thigh that held his hunting knife.

Surely his, ahem, partner, would be a bit more kind, though being asked why they had taken so long when they had came to get her in the first place was infuriatingly entitled of the little brat and his attention snapped back up in her direction though he could not see the little girl with how dark it already was outside plus the overcast created by the dense thicket of trees.

"Hey - we fucking came. Tweedledoofus decided we should play mommy and daddy and come get your ass before the walkers - I did not even want to be here, so cut the shit McCormbitch."

This childs age did not exempt her from the mans temper. Nor his trust issues.

"Now are you going to come down, or should we play rapunzel and have me come up and get you - or Sunshine could fucking reach up God obviously intended he be a Giraffe but something fucking went wrong."

* * *

Gary noticeably twitched at her poor mouth, but quickly shook it off. He laughed awkwardly, almost entirely silent, in an attempt to ease the stress these two both immediately placed on him with foul language.

"Sorry we took so long," Gary apologized as he reached up, hand wide open for her to grab. "Be careful-" he warned gently, eyebrows creasing at the thought of her potentially slipping. That would be awful on several levels.

"You did a very good job." He smiled widely. "It's amazing that you held out for so long. I'm really sorry that we couldn't get here sooner."

He sighed and mouthed a 'thank you' to God, before eying Christophe carefully. Tweedledoofus was a new one. Gary couldn't help but grin affectionately.

"We have to be very quiet." He mentioned to Karen. "So from now on, no more talking unless we really need to, okay?"

Waves of relief were still washing over him at the fact that he'd found her and she was safe. He still felt rather guilty for having made her wait so long, but he was pleased that God had played everything out in a favorable manner.

* * *

Karen reached out for Gary's hand, climbing onto the tall blond's shoulder and wrapping her arms around his neck. She nodded at Gary's words and stayed silent, clutching her knapsack with her. "Thank you," she whispered to Gary, and to Christophe. She was very grateful that now she was within human contact and now that she was rescued, she didn't know what was to happen next. Were they going to travel together to a new destination? Or would they simply bring her back to a little hut they had been staying in.

Karen knew this all happened by luck, as she knew from her brother and his stories that god wasn't as kind as most thought. Though, really, all she could go by were his stories.

Even though now she was down on the ground and safer than previously, she did like the thought of the darker haired boy climbing her like Rapunzel, a fairy tale she did adore. It was a movie she watched many of times with her brother as much as she was able too. Thinking of the two boys that saved her she held in her giggle. If she was Rapunzel then Gary surely was technically supposed to be a prince, but Karen felt he was more so a giant. And if he were a giant, she giggled as nicknamed the brunette Flynn, just to go along with the Rapunzel theme, even though there was no giant.

_Dear Journal,_

_I've finally been found! I've been found! I got saved by this lovely boy who's blond and like a giant! I'm calling him jolly green giant because he's tall as a giant and a giraffe! And I found a "prince". I'm calling him Flynn but I'm pretty sure he's that kid my brother mentioned before. The French one. I think him and the giant are dating because they kind of act like a married couple. I don't know what's next but I hope we'll find him soon. I also got called Rapunzel by Flynn. This will be interesting as he is what Kenny calls "spicy". And Giant isn't. Wow, I've written a bunch today. Take care!_

_-Karen_

* * *

Not that he particularly wanted to be part of the conversation anyways, Christophe began to slowly move away from the area, walking backwards while eyeing the two as they chittered - thankful when both had decided that Silence was in fact Golden.

He himself felt no need to apologize, and once sure Karens current ride was following, Christophe turned, nearly tripping over a protruding root as he did so, though he managed to skip over it, whispering a soft cuss as he found his footing on the other side. During the day, when he could effectively see three inches in front of his own nose, the forest provided an ample battle ground - suitable for both offense and defense.

At night, however - it was tedious trekking, and Christophe counted himself lucky for having spent near all of his life carving out tunnels underground. Some of which he wished he could still use, none the less, it helped him adjust when he was in fact paying attention.

Blissfully unaware of the little fantasy he had planted in the young girls head, the newly dubbed Flynn Rider [hurriedly] wove through the maze of trees, stopping every now again to assess just where it is they may or may not be -

They couldn't be that far out, no mans land between here and the City was scarce, though filled to the brim with aimless…damned souls. What a fucking crack. A chorus of snapping branches and gurgling moans served to be a good indicator that they were either; Going in the wrong direction, or approaching a hoard -

His quick pace was brought to a quick halt, hand shooting up to signify the boy behind him should come to a cautious halt while he himself edged to poke his head over a fallen tree.

Not enough to be a hoard, barely a highschool clique.

Turning to Gary, he curled his fingers down to show three fingers, and then point to the right, the opposite direction their new friends were stumbling on the other side of the large blockade.

As long as they were quiet, and quick, they shouldn't have a problem.

* * *

Gary nearly cooed endearingly when she climbed onto his shoulders, reminded vividly of how his own little sister often did such a thing. Her reasoning mostly was that she liked to see the world from his point of view, him being so tall and what not.

Karen riding on his back was probably for the better anyway, seeing as she could have easily tripped over uprooted branches - much like Nameless did moments ago. He did, however, feel concern that her sudden advantage of height might backfire, not only potentially making them more visible but also giving the possibility for her to hit her head on a branch.

He inhaled and exhaled deliberately, though, and reminded himself that the three of them were under God's protection. With this in mind, he set a smile on his face and prepared himself for whatever lie ahead.

Which, of course, was a good mood, as he halted suddenly at his friend's hand signal. His lips pursed in confusion and he carefully glanced over Nameless' shoulder; his hands tightened around Karen's ankles in response to what he saw. Danger lurked not more than a few feet away, and he'd be darned if he were to let Satan take away the few friendships he'd managed to forge in a long time.

He nodded once and followed Nameless' command. Although he didn't entirely comprehend what it meant, he assumed as best as he could and trailed behind his companion without a doubt in his mind that the shorter man would lead them to safety.

After-all, Nameless may have enjoyed sinning, but Gary was positive that he would do nothing to knowingly harm them. Especially when it might result in him being dangered as well.

A surge of fondness crept into Gary's system, and even as they crossed through the valley of despair (as he'd dubbed it), he felt the need to embrace his two pals. Especially Nameless for coming so very far in accepting him.

…And refraining from trying to make him sin anymore.

* * *

_Dear Stan,_

_I really miss you, buddy! We haven't been very close since fourth grade, and I'm really sorry I haven't kept more in touch with you. I would have liked to have been a better friend, especially before all this happened. I'm also sorry about not just the hurtful things I said, but also the mean things I thought about you. It wasn't right of me. That, and some of the other things I thought when I saw you. Those things definitely were wrong to think about, too. You're a really great person, Stan, and I hope that you accept my apology, as well as make it out of this mess alive. I'm praying for you, pal! Be safe._

_Your friend, Gary Harrison._

* * *

Knapsack on her back, she clung to Gary's neck, staying quiet and trying her hardest to not make any sudden noises. She knew she was the likely target if they were to be caught. She was young, and not as fast, making her an easy target. And if she screeched, make them an easy target.

All was going well up top of Giant's shoulders. The view was nice, there was no walking, and it reminded her of how Kenny used to play with her back when they weren't separated. She thought for moments that they were actually going to get out in perfect condition,until she saw Flynn's three fingers going in a certain direction.

At that visual aid, Karen tightened her grip on Giant's neck, tiny arms squeezing his neck. Flynn was making silent directions, and Karen tried her hardest to watch as well as be silent. She knew if something happened, it'd be likely that she would have to go off on her own again. After all, groups helped; but when it came down to it, it was every man for them self.

As the giant's pace sped up a little bit she let out a tiny squeak, immediately regretting the soft noise and ducking her own head lower so she wouldn't snag on any branches or be as seen.

* * *

Gary's height might serve as a dis-advantage to he and the child they had managed to nab along the way - though as long as noise was kept practically non existent, the three of them should be fine. Not that he did not expect odds to be heavily against them, all things considered.

The commands were unclear, yes, but they served their purpose, managing to get Gary trailing behind Christophe while he practically tiptoed the opposing direction, not at all intent on running in to the small party he kept a feverish eye on. There were instances, moments of panic, when one would cease cluttering in the direction of its close pals to peek a rotting nose into the air as if it were a drug dog. Each time, Christophe coming to and abrupt halt - and by the third time, was no longer fingering the blade strapped to his thigh, but instead palming it.

Reaching an arm blindly behind him, he snagged the fabric of Gary's jean jacket, ushering him and the girl on his shoulders ahead of himself now in a subconscious attempt to keep both further than the curious walkers than he. He was the only one willing and able to fight [so he thought] and if they decided to go looking for a midnight snack, Christophe would rather himself be the one to go on offense rather than have Gary or Karen cause a commotion that could draw in more biters.

"Go, go, go." He whispered, pushing at Gary's shoulder blade. They appeared in the clear, he was not going to linger long enough for the tables to turn. Once far enough away, they might be able to break out into a slow run to further themselves. There was of course that worry previously mentioned, more could be hiding in the brush.

* * *

Gary ducked down slightly to avoid scraping the top of Karen's head with a branch, teeth catching on his lip as he struggled to keep an eye on Nameless. It was clear that the other man was fidgety, and although Gary couldn't deny his own fear, he knew that God was protecting them and that nothing bad could possibly happen.

He stifled a gasp when Nameless suddenly yanked him forward, almost sighing in relief that minimal sound was made. Confusion wracked his system momentarily, disoriented from the lack of light and stumbling footing, but he listened to his friend's command, picking up the pace yet trying to keep it light.

His hand clenched around Karen's a tad tighter, eyes narrowing in discomfort as a walker came far too close to them for comfort; the distance was waning too fast, and he jerked away, maneuvering his way thought he thick foliage as quietly as he could to escape the sick person.

They were almost in the clear. Praise God, Gary thought, a smile of gratitude dominating his features as they began to grow further a part from the persons under Satan's control. A shuddering breath escaped his lips. So close, so close.

_Father God up in Heaven, I want to thank you so much for my life and my new friends! Thank you for protecting us so far, and thank you for giving me all the things you have in life before this point. I pray that you continue to protect little Karen and my other friend; please aid us in finding Karen's brother and whoever it is that my other friend wants to find… And I also pray that we find my family, and Stan Marsh, safe and protected by your light. I just know you're doing everything in your power to help them. Thank you so much, father!_

_In Jesus' name I pray, Amen._

* * *

**...And that was where the replies stopped, never to be continued.**

**Rest in peace, Lance.**


End file.
